Life's Stranger than Fiction
by Karos
Summary: How would someone from our universe really feel if they fell into the Marvel-verse? Not be bothered at all? And what would happen if they couldn't ever get home?
1. Why am I explaining myself to a figment ...

A/N:  I've always been annoyed by those stories you find where someone, somehow, meets the X-Men.  Instead of freaking out, they always handle it so well, which, to me, isn't the least bit believable.  So, here is my attempt to write a realistic story.  I love feedback, if you'd be willing to take the time to tell me what you think.

~Miranda         

_            I don't remember much…there was blackness all around for ages, a blackness that sucked me in and tore me into it.  It was heavy and thick, suffocating, and O, God, it was death and disease._

_            After a while (or maybe immediately, who could tell) it felt lighter, and suddenly it was gone, like someone had flipped this switch and turned on the sun.  I lay there (where?) stunned, sobbing, trying to breathe, trying to live.  I heard voices, unfamiliar, harsh, but couldn't see yet.  _

_            I felt warm arms lift me up, and slowly my vision cleared.  There stood a man (was it a man?) who looked like a demon.  I recognized him, in a way, but knew he wasn't real._

_            Confused and hurt and scared, I did the only thing I could._

_            I laughed, hysterically, scaring the demon-man and his friends who I could just barely see._

_            And then the blackness came back._

            "Henry, what have you found out about our 'guest'?" Charles Xavier asked as he strolled into the lab that belonged to Henry McCoy, A.K.A Hank, A.K.A. Beast, A.K.A. the Twinkie King (though he preferred to keep that title a secret).

            Hank sighed, using one claw to adjust his tiny spectacles that appeared much too small for his large head.  "Frankly, Charles?  Not a whole hell of a lot."  He beckoned his old friend and mentor over to the corner where a hospital bed had been set up, as the infirmary was full with students who had come down with the flu.  In it laid a young woman, her skin pale, her hair a deep brown.  Her eyes, Hank had discovered upon examining her, were a brilliant blue.  "She's around 17.  Fairly healthy, though she's recently had her gull bladder out.  She's a mutant, but it looks like her powers are just starting to manifest.  In fact, I'd say they only started manifesting the day Kurt brought her in."

            "Odd.  17 is rather late. vAnything else?"

            "I don't know.  When I tried to scan her to verify she'd from this timeline, the test just wouldn't work, Charles!"

            Xavier stared at his friend.  "What do you mean, 'didn't work?'"

            "I mean, nothing!  She's here, but I can't get a reading.  Something's blocking it."

            Contemplating the matter, Charles examined the girl more closely.  "Is she strong enough for me to scan her mind?"

            Hank sighed as he gave up with the glasses and tossed them on his desk.  "Like I said, Charles—I don't know.  I can't even determine what's wrong with her.  My best guest is she passed out from shock and refuses to wake up.  But I don't suppose it could hurt."

            Nodding, Xavier gently placed his hand on the girl's temple—a mental crutch that he no longer needed, but used out of force of habit.  Gently he pushed into her mind.

            Hank watched as the peaceful expression on Xavier's face turned to confusion, then frustration.  Moments later he dropped his hand and stare at her.  "Charles?" he asked curiously.

            "I can't read her, Hank.  It's like her whole mind is shrouded in static.  I can sense her emotions, but that's it."  Troubled, Charles looked up.  "She's terrified and confused, to the point of panic.  I can't begin to imag—"

            He was cut off by a whimpering noise from the bed.  Startled, both men turned to the patient, who seemed to finally be regaining consciousness.   Hank quickly checked the monitors that were attached to her, while rapidly talking to Charles.  "It seems, Charles, that you managed to do some good in there.  She's definitely waking."  Frowning, he injected her with a very low stimulant, then stepped back and watched.

            Her eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing just how blue they were.  They stared at the ceiling for a moment before the girl frowned, sensing she wasn't alone.  Slowly, she managed to make them focus on the men in front of her.  Her eyes widened and she screamed.

            _Alright, maybe it wasn't the most polite way of handling the situation, but I think I was totally justified in screaming.  One does not expect to wake up and see fictional characters at the foot of one's bed, especially giant, cat-like, blue ones.  Or one, as the other one wasn't blue._

_            I wasn't stupid—I recognized who they were.  Beast and Professor X.  I just didn't believe it was real.  Some horrific nightmare, maybe, or I'd finally gone insane, like everyone was always telling me I would._

_            Besides, what would you do?_

Hank quickly covered his sensitive ears while Xavier attempted to calm the hysterical girl.  "Child, calm down!  Nobody is going to hurt you!  You're safe!"

            She stopped mid-scream, still terrified, but too stunned to do anything else.  "Not real," she whispered, her eyes darting around.

            "Shhh," Xavier soothed.  _Hank, go find Jean.__  Maybe she can help me calm her._

_            Right._

"Are you alright?" Xavier asked softly, keeping his voice low.

            She nodded.

            "Good.  You worried us, you know.  You've been unconscious for four days!"

            She said nothing, her eyes wide.

            "Can you tell me your name?" he tried.

            "Leslie," she whispered.  

            "What's your last name, Leslie?"

            "Corring."

            "Ah, nice to meet you, Leslie," Xavier said, attempting to make his voice humorous.  "My name is Charles Xavier and this," he added as Jean walked over to their corner, "is Jean Grey."

            "Hello, Leslie," Jean said kindly, smiling.

            _Not real not real not real…_ "…Not real," Leslie whispered again.

            Xavier frowned.  "What's not real, Leslie?"

            Suddenly something in Leslie snapped and she glared at them, her voice stronger as she answered.  "You.  Her.  Beast.  None of you are real.  You're just comic book characters!  None of this is real!" she yelled, furious with the joke God seemed to be playing on her.

            Jean and Charles looked at each other, startled.  "What do you mean, sweetie?" Jean asked, eyes as wide as Leslie's had been.

            Her head clear now, and the pain that had plagued her gone, Leslie sat up straighter and glared at her.  "I _said that nothing here is real.  _X-Men_ is just a comic.  Well, and a movie and cartoon, but that's besides the point, especially because the movie—" she stopped and blinked her eyes.  "Why am I explaining myself to a figment of my imagination?"_

            Charles said, still stunned, "Aren't there mutants where you're from?"

            "Well, I personally think that my cousin's a mutant, but no, not they way you're thinking, because you're not thinking, because you're not real!" Leslie said, but there was uncertainty in her voice, like she was trying to convince herself.

            _Jean, leave us for now.  Go get any team members you can find and meet in the war room in an hour._

_            Professor…_

_            Trust me, Jean._

            With a sigh, Jean nodded and left the room.

            Xavier sat down on a chair and looked at this strange girl who had suddenly appeared on the _Blackbird_.  "You and I must talk."

            An hour had past, and Charles was quickly leading Leslie to the War Room, who, stiff from days in bed, was desperately trying to keep up, despite the fact that her gangly legs were as long, if not longer, than his.  Her clothes had been washed, but someone had gone overboard with starch, and they were now as stiff as she was.  

            Suddenly, Xavier—as she thought of him, despite his insistence she call him Charles—stopped in front of a door.  He placed his hand on a panel, and with a beep it opened.  He entered and she followed.

            Charles indicated a chair for her to sit in, which she quickly did, fearing that she would fall down in shock.  She recognized everyone there, but they looked so different from the comics she knew.  _Well, duh, Leslie, they're real.  Or at least, I _think _they are_, she amended, still hoping it was all a dream.  She was even willing to hope she was insane and in a nice padded room.

            She glanced around the table, quietly drawing in sharp breaths at seeing some of the…more physically mutated X-Men.  Read: Kurt, Stacy, Warren, Beast, Xorn.  _PLEASE let it be a dream…_She then tuned in to what Xavier had been saying.

            "…her timeline, we are all characters in a comic book.  Obviously, it took some work to convince her that we are real here."

            There were a few short barks of laughter at that, and Leslie bent her head, feeling her cheeks warm, but the look Xavier gave the laughers convinced them he was serious.

            "My first instinct was to try and determine a way to get Leslie home.  There are three unfortunate facts, though, that prevent this.  One, Leslie is a mutant.  In her timeline, no one manifests powers, or even knows if they are a mutant or not.  However, once she entered our timeline, through an unknown method, her mutation became active.  Even were she to return home, the mutation would take place as if she were here.  She would be the only mutant in her entire reality.

            "The second fact is that time flows much more quickly there than here.*  During the four days she's been here, months have gone by in her reality.

            "The third fact is that there is such a difference in our realities that I cannot read Leslie's mind, nor do any of Hanks scans that might help us locate her specific reality work.  We have no way of knowing where home is.

            "The only option I see is for Leslie to remain here with us, to study here, and train here, once her mutation develops.  Are there any questions or recommendations?"

            Despite herself, Leslie couldn't help but admire the way Xavier took command of the meeting, the way he was able to get out so much information in so short a time.  A deep male voice spoke up to her left.  Turning her head, she saw it belonged to a dark-haired man in red glassed. _ Cyclops._

            "No offense, Professor, but if you can't read her mind, how do we know that she's telling the truth?  It could all just be a trap.  I mean, comic book characters?  Come on, how realistic is _that_?!"

            Leslie used to like Cyclops.  _He's a tragic character, she'd say.  _He's a good man at heart._  But she'd been really pissed about his attitude and affair with the White Queen, and she'd just found out she was stuck in an alternate reality with make-believe people for life, and she'd never see her family again.  Him calling her a liar was too much._

            "You want proof, Summers?" she snapped, directing all her anger at him.  "How's this: Christopher Summers sires Scott and Alex Summers, plus an unknown third brother.  Family's in a plane, catches on fire, Scott and Alex jump to safety, Chris and wife go down with plane.  Alex adopted, Scott not, lose contact, later find each other.

            "Scott falls in love with red-head Jean Grey, dating, one day they're flying a shuttle and Jean gains power from celestial entity known as Phoenix.  Goes wacko, becomes Dark Phoenix, sacrifices self on moon, dies, everyone's sad.

            "Scott on trip with brother and dad, meets pilot Madelyne Pryor, who just happens to look exactly like Jean Grey, but of course no one thinks much about _that.  Scott marries Maddie, thinks good, find out she's pregnant, yea!  Somewhere along the line Rachel Summer, a child of Jean and Scott from alternate timeline shows up, but I'm not even going there._

            Everything's good, son born, name him Nathan Christopher, aw, how sweet, when **BOOM!  Jean's not dead, she's underwater healing, Phoenix entity took her place and masqueraded as her.  Unfortunately, Scott's married, ya dumb shit!"  _Hmm, maybe I should stop, everyone's looking at me like I'm some sorta ghost…Nahhh!_**

            "Scott leaves Maddie and Nathan, Maddie sees Scott with Jean on news, goes nutso and becomes Goblin Queen, brings about this little thing called the Inferno, plans on sacrifices son, obviously Scott not pleased about that.

            "Turns out, Maddie's Jeans clone made by Sinister and brought to life by the Phoenix when she attempted to give the memories of her time on earth to Jean.  'Course, how no one thought it was strange that this person who looks like Jean falls in love with Scott and has memories of fire, I'll never know.

            "Well, Jean and Maddie battle, Jean wins, eventually incorporates Maddie and Phoenix's memories into herself, and I'm not going any farther because my throats parched.  Now, Mr. Scott Summers, _are you convinced?!"_

            Leslie's cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing hard, but she couldn't help noticing the looks she was receiving from around the table.  They mostly involved dropped mouths and wide eyes.  "Wow," someone—Bobby, she realized—said. 

            Xavier broke the silence.  "Jean, would you take Leslie to an empty room she can have?  And I need two volunteers to take her shopping this afternoon, as she only has what she's wearing."

            Silence.  _Oh, shit, I scared them!  Leslie mentally berated herself.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid!__

            Xavier sighed and rubbed his eyes.  "Bobby and Kurt, you two don't have anything this afternoon.  You take her.  Meeting adjourned."  With that, he left the room.

            He was followed by Jean and Leslie, the door closing behind them.  The remaining X-Men sat in stunned silence.

            Bobby looked at Kurt.  "We're gonna die, aren't we?"

            Kurt unhappily nodded.

            _I should have been quiet, I really should have, but he pissed me off.  He's just lucky I didn't call him on his affair with Emma.  I should have, but it's really none of my business. (Like that ever stopped me before!)_

_            Jean was so quiet, I thought for a moment she'd gone mute.  Apparently my…story upset her some.  I feel badly because I really like her, but dammit, he made me mad!_

_            I'm rambling to avoid the issue—I'm terrified of Kurt.  Not him, exactly, so much as his appearance, and before you think I'm a horrible person, think about it—he's blue, with glowing eyes, and looks like a demon.  Real people aren't supposed to look like that!_

_            God, I hope I'm insane._

*My explanation for why we had the comics in the 60's, but they've barely aged.


	2. I can't believe you ran off the road!

A/N:  O, I got reviews!  Goody!  Yes, I said goody!  To answer a question, I'm hoping to write some about the X-Treme team, though it's my least favorite book.  I do know that Rogue will be in this, and probably Storm and Gambit.  I don't really like the newer characters.  Maybe Sage or Bishop, who I know isn't new, but is just anal.  Though that gives me ideas for Leslie torture…

Disclaimer: whoops, forgot this part, though I think you all know that I don't own the X-Men.  I own Leslie Corring, though, and if anyone uses her in a story, I'd like to know.  I request that she's _not used in an NC-17 story._

            Leslie glared at her room as she sat on her bed.  Not that the room had done anything, but it was the only target for her anger at the moment.  

            It was actually a very nice, if very empty, room.  It was large, almost twice the size of her room at home.  Dresser, desk, mirror, bed, bookshelf, all the basics were present.  It even came with a really nice laptop!  

            But it wasn't _her_ room.

            Feeling like she was going to cry, Leslie buried her face into a pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of her tears.  Before she got a chance to really get at it, however, there was a knock at the door.

            Quickly, she wiped her face and cleared her throat.  "Come in."

            The door opened to reveal a very nervous Bobby Drake.  "Um, Kurt and I were wondering if you were ready to go?"

            "Yeah, I guess so.  Don't have anything else to do."  With a shrug she got off the bend and walked over to him.  "I suppose you realized at the meeting, but I'm Leslie," she added, holding out her hand.

            Gingerly, Bobby shook it.  "Bobby Drake."

            "I know," Leslie replied without thinking.  Seeing the wince on his face, she mentally cursed herself.  _Ah, yes, come see the amazing girl with the mutant ability to freak people out!  $5 an adult, $3 children and seniors!_

            They walked in silence down the hall, Leslie trying not to look to incredulous.  Uncomfortable with the oppressive quiet, she spoke up.  "So, what do you want me to call you?  Mr. Drake?"

            Bobby winced again, but this time it was theatrical.  "God, no!  Call me Bobby.  Everyone else does."

            Leslie smiled at that.  "Alright."  There was no time to say anything more, for they were out the door and heading towards the garage.

            _Don't be nervous, he's just a normal guy. Of course, he does just happen to have a tale and fur and glowing eyes, but he's really very average!  Leslie wondered when the voice in her head got so sarcastic._

            Bobby led her to a car, next to which stood Kurt.  _See? Totally normal.  Uh-huh, and the moon's made of bloody cheese!  She shoved those thoughts aside, though, and managed a timid smile and an extended hand.  "Hi.  I'm Leslie."_

            "Hello, Leslie.  Call me Kurt."

            "Sure."  _Okay, shaking hands with a guy with three fingers is creepy, but it could be worse…how, I'm not sure, but it probably could be.  Arrgh, that felt weird!!_

            They piled in, Kurt and Bobby up front and Leslie in the back.  She curled up on the seat like a cat and stared out the window at her new home.

            _I hate this.  I want to go home.  This sucks.  Hello, God, are you there, it's me, Leslie, psycho girl, can you wake me up now?_

Kurt cleared his throat.  "This must be very difficult for you."

            Leslie blinked.  It was the first time anyone had seemed to notice that little fact.  "Yeah, you could say that.  Seeing as I'm trapped for life in a universe I thought was fictional.  No offense, of course."

            "None taken," Bobby answered, then turned around in his seat and grinned.  "I gotta say, the expression on Cyke's face when you lectured him was priceless!"

            She laughed.  "He annoyed me."

            "He does tend to do that to people," Kurt agreed with a smile.

            "Cyke's a good guy, though," Bobby added, feeling called upon to defend his friend.  His eyes suddenly lit up and he grinned wider.  "Hey, do you know any juicy things we could use for blackmail?"

            "Bobby!" Kurt scolded, but Leslie laughed.  _This was the Bobby she'd read about._

            "Juicy?  Hmm…does Rogue's real name count as juicy?" she asked innocently, eyes twinkling.

            Kurt nearly drove the car off the road, and Bobby's mouth dropped.  "No way!"

            "Way."

            "Tellmetellmetellme!"

            "Hmmm…I do believe someone mentioned the word blackmail a minute ago?"

            Kurt laughed and Bobby groaned.  "Dammit!  Okay, what will it take?"

            Leslie smiled evilly.  "This time's on me, but in the future it'll cost ya.  Rogue's real name…"

            Bobby leaned in closer, and Kurt strained his ears to listen.

            "…is…"

            Bobby was practically in her lap now, and even Kurt had slightly turned his head.

            "…Marie."

            This time they did go off the road.

_            It was the first non-depressing thing that happened to me here.  Going off the road, I mean, which should give you some idea of how totally bizarre life here is.  I was terrified for a moment, grabbing onto Bobby's seat for dear life, saying the Hail Mary as quickly as I could.  I'm pretty sure Kurt was saying it in German.  That, or some rather choice swear words.  I'll have to check on this later.  _

_            We didn't get hurt at all though, which isn't that strange when you compare to how the day'd been going.  A half hour, two ice ramps, and numerous 'Gott in Himmel!'s' later, we were back on the road and heading toward  the mall._

_            A padded room wouldn't be nearly as exciting…_

            By the time they finally made it to the mall, Leslie felt some better.  She was still depressed and upset, but she had some temporary relief.  "I can't believe you drove off the road!"

            "I can't believe Rogue's name is Marie!" Kurt said, blushing purple beneath his image inducer.

            _Oh, look, the scary man's blushing.  How sweet!  Terrifying, but sweet, in a last-thing-you'll-ever-see way._

Cursing her inner voice for reminding her, once again, that this was all impossible and terrifying, she steeled herself and flashed a grin.  "Well, let's shop!"

            Bobby paled.  "I knew it.  We're going to die."

            _Mutant or not, fictional or not, no man likes to take a woman shopping.  I think it must be something God wrote into the universe.  You know, "…and the Lord said, 'As punishment for this sin, you and all your descendents shall hateth to shoppeth."  Or something like that._

_            So I decided to have a little fun with them.  Was it mean?  Yup.  Cruel and unusual?  Hell, yes!_

_            But it was damn funny, too._

Jean Grey-Summers blinked as she entered the kitchen to find Bobby slumped on the floor with his back against the wall, groaning.  "Bobby?"

            He looked up at her with tortured eyes.  "She tricked us, Jean.  She's evil!"

            Jean smothered a smile and assisted him to a seat at the table.  "What happened?"

            Bobby placed his head in his hands and groaned again.  "We get there, right?  And we're a little goofy from going off the road—"

            "You _went off the road?!"_

            "Quiet, Jeannie, whose telling this, me or you?  Anyway, we're steeled against the perils of shopping with a woman who literally can buy anything she wants and, in fact, needs to, but Leslie's acting all weird.  In the store, get what she needs, out of the store.  Doesn't even try most of it on, since she knows it's her size!

            "So we've got everything, right?  Clothes, shoes, CD's, bathroom crap, blankets, posters, jewelry, stuffed animals, journals, pens, everything!  And it's all been get in, get what you need, get out!  So, she tells us she just has to go to the bookstore, and we'll be done.  Kurt and I are thinking we'll be home by 2:00.

            "But when we get there, Jeannie, this look of…of…of _unholy glee_ crosses her face, and she gets this terrifying grin!  It was like Jubilee at a shoe sale!  She was in there for _hours!*  Kurt and I nearly broke our backs lugging all her stuff to the car, and finally we gave up and had Kurt teleport back and forth!  It was terrible, Jeannie!"_

            Jean smothered another laugh, though not quite as successfully as before, then thought of something.  "Where's Kurt?"

            "Probably still teleporting stuff to the girl's room!  She's evil!  Evil!"

            "Poor baby," Jean said soothingly, telepathically reaching out and relaxing him.  "Just rest, now.  I'll tell the professor."

            "Thanks Jeannie," Bobby mumbled before slumping over on the table.

            Jean stood up, debating whether or not to go rescue Kurt, then decided against it.  It would do Leslie good to have some company.

            Plus, after hearing _that_ story, she felt a bit evil herself…

*Yes, it is possible to spend hours in a bookstore.  I know, I've done it.  Several times.


	3. Hmm, you have abnormally accurate gossip...

A/N:  I'm being such a good little writer, aren't I?  Enjoy these frequent updates while you can, I doubt they'll last.  Anyway, some important notes.  This story takes place before the current arc in Uncanny X-Men.  Now, I'm messing with New X-Men some.  Quentin and the others are on kick and hurting humans, but open house isn't for two months still. (There time, not ours.)  I have the bad feeling I'm gonna be inconsistent with accents, too, so ya know.

Disclaimer: 

"Got the ring, Alex?"

"What's it worth to you?"

"Want to die, Alex?"  Scott and Alex, Uncanny X-Men 175

            Kurt Wagner had faced many things in his life (the Brood, Sentinels, Apocalypse, angry mobs, the time Bobby put Nair in his shampoo, Moira's coffee) but he had never been as exhausted as he was now.  He slumped onto the bed, dropping the last box of books in the process.  He mumbled angry German words.

            "I'm sure that wasn't nice," Leslie said dryly from her place on the floor.

            Kurt grinned back at her.  "Nein.  It vasn't."

            Leslie barely managed to stop herself from shivering in fear—the light shined on his fangs, making them look particularly sharp.  It reminded her yet again that she was either losing her mind or trapped in an alternated universe and currently was looking at a priest who happened to look like a demon.  _I never appreciated the irony of that before as much as I do now…_

            A silence fell for a moment, during which she worked putting things away and Kurt rested, weary from so many teleports.  Groaning, he stood up, stretching his arms.  "Before I forget, here," he said, handing her a book.

            Puzzled, Leslie took it.  "'_Welcome to the Xavier Institute?'"  _

            "Ja.  It has the rules and such in it."

            "Oh, God, not more rules," she groaned, thinking of her last school.

            Kurt laughed.  "I vill leave you to it."  With that, he teleported out of the room.

            Still groaning, Leslie pulled herself up onto her bed and started to read.

            _Talking with Kurt was…difficult, I suppose.  He's funny and kind, but I'm still scared.  Not as much as I was, though, which I suppose is progress.  It's hard to be afraid after awhile.  But…when I see him, or any of the X-Men, for that matter, it just reminds me that I'm stuck here…_

_            I read the manual, and am actually glad that I did.  It had boring things in it, like curfews and such, but it also had things in it that I needed to know, like maps and dinner times and such.  According to it, every Sunday a bus takes any student who wants to attend church into __Salem__Center__.  At least I know one thing will be the same here as at home._

_            I wonder what my power is?  I've barely had time to think about the fact that I'm a mutant, I've been so upset about being here at all.  Hank said that it could develop any time in the next three months.  I'm terrified, but also…excited, I guess.  I mean, I don't really know what I'm supposed to be feeling right now._

_            I feel badly for telling Bobby Rogue's name.  It's not something I should even know…Should I tell them _anything_ that I know?  I know __Logan__'s real name, I know what the Supreme Pontiff, the bastard, did to Kurt…but what will happen here if I do?_

_            …This gets more confusing every minute…_

            Sighing, Leslie closed her journal and glanced at her clock.  According to the book, she'd have to go now if she wanted to have dinner.  Grabbing the tear-out map, she left her room.

            After an eternity (or fifteen minutes, but whose counting?) of walking, she finally discovered the cafeteria.  Well, she guessed it had once been a ballroom or something—it _was a mansion—but it had food in it, and that was all her stomach cared about…food.  Yummy!_

            Hurrying, she grabbed a tray and began studying the selections.  "Well, at least it's not moving," she commented to no one in particular.  Shrugging, she grabbed a salad and a plate of chicken, then looked around for a seat.  That's when she noticed that almost everyone in the cafeteria was studying her.  _Oh, hell, what now?  Curious, she glanced behind her.  Nope, no one there.  She glanced at her outfit.  _What, jeans not "in" here?  I didn't spill anything…_  Finally, she gave up and raised her eyebrows at the crowd before heading towards an empty table.  _Alright, you wanna look at the new kid, look at the new kid.  _She began to eat._

            "You Leslie?" a deep voice asked.  Startled, she looked up to see a guy with light brown hair cut in the strangest fashion and wearing…a red and black…shit!!

            "I am," she said as calmly as she could, trying not to pass out.  "And you must be Quentin.  Nice hair."  She made sure to put considerable sarcasm on the last part.

            He raised his eyebrow at her.  "So, the news _is_ true."

            "Can't say.  Haven't heard it.  Now, are you going to tell me, or will you just leave so I can get back to eating?"

            "Cute," he smirked, sitting down across from her on one chair and putting his legs on another.  "News is you're from different timeline."

            "Ah.  Well, then it's true.  Now, can I get back to my salad?"  _You self-righteous, arrogant murderer!  And yoooouuuu caaaan't reeeaadd my miiinndd!!_

"News also is that this," he waived his hand as if to encompass his whole reality with it, "this is just a comic book there."

            "Hmm, you have abnormally accurate gossips.  Are you done?"

            He grinned at her, something in his eyes sparking.  He leaned forward, swinging his feet to the floor.  "Nope.  What _I _want to know is, what do you know about me?"

            _Oh, God.  This won't end well.  Still giving the appearance of being in control, she took a bite of her chicken, then calmly wiped her mouth.  "I'd be very careful, Quentin.  From what I understand, murdering is as big a crime here as where I come from."_

            His smile disappeared.  "And what will you do about it?  You're powers haven't even developed yet!"

            _God, I'm sorry for the time I snuck out and went to Chicago for the concert, please don't let me die…"Careful, Quentin.  Wouldn't want anyone to think you're threatening me, now would we?  And you _don't_ want to know what I'll do.  Trust me."  _I'll scream and run like hell, but I'm not telling _you__ that!_

"Now, I think my dinner's getting cold."

            Glaring, he stood up, shoving the table as he did so, and stalked out of the cafeteria.

            Her hands shaking, Leslie quickly took her tray up and ran back to her room.

            _That night the blackness came back.  It was deeper than before, thicker.  Instead of tearing me, it entered me, filling my lungs and stomach.  I thought I was dead, my body convulsing, freezing._

_            And then I heard the laughter…_

'

            Gasping, Leslie sat up in bed, staring straight in front of her.  Covering her mouth, she ran out of her room and to the bathroom.  She emptied her stomach, tears running down her face, trying not to make any noise.  _Oh God oh God oh God…don't let it be real…_

            She finally managed to stand up, her thin legs wobbly.  She went over to the locker that held her things and grabbed her toothbrush.  She brushed her teeth viciously, trying to get the horrible taste out, trying to wash away the memory. 

            Still shaking, she splashed water on her face.  Wiping it off, she glance in the mirror.  Her reflection was that of a mad woman, eyes wide, skin pale and taunt over her bony face.

            Still shaking, but some calmer, she headed back to her room.  Closing the door behind her, she climbed back under the covers, trying to fall back asleep.  

            But this time she left her reading lamp on.

A/N: What'd ya think?  A little shorter, but it would have been _much longer if I hadn't stopped it here, and would have taken forever to finish.  By the way, does anyone have any ideas for what Leslie's power should be?  I know what her __mutation is going to be, but not her power, and I know that makes no sense now, but it will._


	4. You do know I can't hear telepathy, don'...

A/N:  I'm  baaaackk!!!  I love this part! I get to say whatever I want!! Anyway, thanks for the suggestions on Leslie's powers.  If anyone still has one, I'd love to here it.  I have an idea what I want to do, but it's…odd, so any other ideas would probably be better.  Ahem, as for whether this will be a Leslie/Kurt romance…well, you never know, do you? J 

Disclaimer: 
    
    "Confused, Jean..? Sudden doubts about what this means for you and Scotty -- for 
    
    your cozy little marriage, maybe -- in the wake of my wake? No fear, girlfriend. 
    
    Not about that, at least. Been there, done that. And his little brother too."
    
    Madeline Pryor, X-Man 25

            Groggy and nauseous, Leslie struggled to remember where she was and why she was awake.  The events of yesterday came rushing back to her.  Hell.  At least she knew the answer to the first question.  As for the second…

            Oh, yeah.  Might have something to do with the crazy person pounding on her door at…5:49 AM?!  Awake now, Leslie threw the covers off and flung open the door.  "What?!" she snarled, in an unconscious imitation of Wolverine.

            Her question apparently startled the blonde standing at the door.  Almost as tall as Leslie, but not nearly as bony, her eyes widened.  "H-hi!  Ah'm Paige Guthrie.  Ah'm s'posed—"

            "Hold that thought,"  Leslie interrupted, closing the door in Paige's face.  _I will not murder her, I will not murder her, I will not murder her…maim, yes, but I will not murder her…_Pretending the last five minutes had never happened, she crawled back into bed and tried to fall asleep.

            Paige waited in the hall, tapping her feet, for five minutes…then ten…then fifteen…  After twenty minutes of waiting, she opened the door.

            Leslie glared at her from her place on the bed.  "Don't you know it's rude not to knock?"

            Paige glared at her.  "Ya had me waiting fer a half hour!"

            Still glaring, Leslie sat up.  "One, it wasn't a half hour.  Two, what the hell are you doing, waking me up this early?"

            "Ah'm giving ya yer schedule!"

            Leslie stared at her, trying to process this new information.  _Coffee…need…_coffee…_  "Schedule?"_

            Sighing, Paige tried her best to get her accent under control before continuing.  "Yes, your schedule.  With your classes and stuff?"

            _Oooohhhh__, that kind of schedule._  "Okay, great.  Thanks," Leslie said, taking the slip of paper, "but is there a reason you did it _now_?!"

            "Well, your first class is at 7:25, and I figured you'd need time to get ready and eat—"

            "7:25?!  Who came up with that idea?  Never mind, don't care, thanks so much, bye!"  

            With that, Paige found herself in the hall again.  Miffed, she went downstairs to get her breakfast, away from crazy girls from alternate timelines.

            "Crap, crap, crap!  Stupid school with stupid classes at stupid 7:25," Leslie muttered as she ran to the cafeteria for breakfast.  6:50.  Okay, that gave her a half hour to eat and find her first class.  What_ was her first class?  _Eat first, check schedule later…__

            She burst through the cafeteria doors, running to the line.  _Fooooood_…no!  Ogle later, hurry now!  _Grabbing a bowl of fruit and a bagel, she plopped down at the nearest table, ignoring the startled looks of the people already there.  "Hi, I'm Leslie, yes, I'm from an alternate dimension, yes, all this is just a comic there, and no, my powers haven't developed yet."  With that she viciously began attacking her breakfast._

            One of the students at her table cleared her throat.  "Ummm…I'm Julia."

            "Hi, nice ta meet ya."  _Nice, polite, eat faster!  "So, what do ya do?"_

            "Limited energy-matter conversion.  I'm trying to get better, but still can't do anything really big."

            "Interesting."  _Swallow, bite, chew, swallow…done!  Wiping her mouth, Leslie pulled out her schedule.  "Let's see first class is…aw, damn!"_

            "What?" Julia asked curiously.

            "A.P.  English."

            "That's my first class, too.  What's wrong, don't you like English?"

            "Love it.  It's the teacher, Emma Frost, I'm not real keen on."

            "Oh," Julia said, smiling slightly.  "She is…different."

            "Uh-huh.  This won't end well."

            At 7:23 Leslie and Julia burst into their classroom, panting and out of breath.

            "Nice to see you girls could make it," Emma said dryly from behind her desk.  Julia blushed, but Leslie ignored her.  

            Emma hadn't been present at the meeting Xavier had had about Leslie, so it was the first time Leslie had gotten a chance to see her.  _Well, I think 'slut' just about sums it up…_

            The ringing of the bell disturbed her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.  Emma continued to sit at her desk, apparently grading papers.

            After five minutes of this, Leslie looked around.  Everyone else was taking notes on…nothing?  Finally, Leslie raised her hand.  "Uh, Ms Frost?"

            Emma's gaze snapped to hers.  "Yes…what's you're name?"

            "Leslie Corring.  Not to be rude, but I'm pretty sure I've missed something…"  She heard laughter, but decided to ignore it.

            Emma raised one of her oh-so-delicate eyebrows.  "Oh?"

            "Um…you _do know I can't hear telepathy, don't you?"_

            This time the laughter was much louder.  Emma may have blushed, but it was gone in a flash.  "I see.  Well, then, we'll just have to have class out loud."  There was a sneer in her voice as she said this.  "Get the earlier notes from someone else.  Now, back to Jane Austen…"

            Leslie slumped down in her seat as she began to take notes with everyone else.  It was gonna be a loooonnnggg day…

            _Give me Kurt or Hank any day!  I can't stand that woman!  Part of it, I suppose is my own fault—I have this thing with women who have affairs with married men.  Still, she is such a slut!!  EVERYTHING is RIGHT THERE!!  Plus, I'm pretty sure she hate's me cause she can't get into my mind.  Well, too bad for her!_

_            I'm going to kill whoever made up my schedule!  I have basic combat with Wolverine, survival skills with Wolverine, and combat aid with Jean!  Apparently, since my powers aren't developed yet, they thought these were the most logical training classes for me.  Uh-huh, yeah.  I can't freakin' MOVE I hurt so much!!_

_            At least I have Julia to complain to.  She's nice, I guess, even if she's scared of me like the rest of 'em.  But hey, beggars can't be choosers!_

            Leslie lay prone on her bed, unable to move.  _Soft…lovely softness…kill __Logan__…kill Jean…_

            A knock at the door interrupted her wonderful plotting.  "Come in," she groaned.

            The door opened to reveal Hank.  "Leslie, I was looking at some…are you alright?"

            "I just spent three hours training with Wolverine and an hour with Jean.  Alright and I aren't even in the same hemisphere."

            "Ah," Hank said knowingly, sitting on her desk chair.  "If you'd like, I can always give you some Tylenol."

            "No, I'm fine," Leslie lied, sitting up carefully.  "Was there something you wanted?"

            Hank sobered as he remembered.  "I was going over your test results and found this."  He tossed the pack of paper to her.

            Leslie picked it up curiously, then tensed when she realized what the figures meant.  "Found that, did you?"

            "Yes.  Leslie, I'd like to recommend some counseling—" 

            "No, Hank," she said firmly, tossing the results back to him.  "I don't want anyone to know.  It's my business, no one else's."

            "But, Leslie, this is a difficult time for you.  Wouldn't it be helpful to talk to someone else about this?"

            "Hank, I said no.  I'm dealing with it my way, okay?  I _don't want to talk about it, and I __don't want anyone else to know.  Especially not Xavier.  Got it?"_

            Sighing, Hank stood up.  "While I think you're wrong, doctor-patient confidentiality forces me to accept you request.  But, Leslie, if you _do ever want to talk, just come to me, alright?"_

            "Sure, Hank," Leslie said, but the tone in her voice made it clear that that would never happen.

            Shaking his head, Hank left.

            Closing the door behind him, Leslie sat down at her desk and folded her arms.  There were some things she just didn't want to think about.  Well, that plan had just been shot to hell. 

            Groaning, she stood up.  _I need a drink._

            _You'd think they'd make it more difficult to get the beer, considering that this is a school and all.  I mean, I go in the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab some.  Ridiculous.  Not that I'm complaining, mind.  _

            Sighing, Leslie sat under the tree outside, enjoying the night and the beer.  She took a deep swig, which she proceeded to spray all over the place when a voice suddenly scared her to death.

            "Pretty sure yer underage, kid.  Not to mention it's past curfew."

            Wiping her mouth, Leslie turned to see Logan—Wolverine—walk over to her and sit next to her.  She snorted at his comment.

            "When you've been thrown into an alternate timeline and been told you can never go home, _then_ you can lecture me about underage drinking.  Until then, you can join me."  She handed him a can.

            Surprised by the fact that she wasn't screaming in terror—the reaction he normally got—Logan shrugged and took the can, draining half of it in one draught.  He smacked his lips.  "Good choice, kid.  This is Chuck's stash."  He finished the can, then looked at her.  "I should report ya and send ya to bed."

            "Probably," Leslie agreed, drinking from her own can.  "But you won't."

            Wolverine raised his eyebrows.  He grinned at her.  "Why not?"

            "Cause I'd just sneak out again.  This way, you're being the responsible adult and making sure I don't overdo it."

            He laughed at that.  "Alright, kid.  Just tonight, though, got it?"

            "Sure."

            They sat in silence for a while, Logan starting a new can, and Leslie finishing her current one.  Sighing, she sat back against the tree.  "Does it ever get easier?"

            "What?"

            "Life."

            A moment passed, then, "No.  It doesn't."

            Leslie nodded, then took a swig.  "Didn't think so," she said a minute later.  "But…I was hoping…"

            Logan studied her.  "It doesn't get easier.  But you get stronger."

            Leslie let a tear fall.  "I don't want to be strong.  I don't want to care.  I just want to wake up, and all of this to be a dream."

            "Most of us do."

            They let the silence fall again.  Eventually, Logan glanced at his watch.  "You better head in.  Got class tomorrow."

            "Class.  Fuck, I'm supposed to have _Sense and Sensibility read!  Emma'll freakin' kill me!"_

            Logan laughed.  "Should've thought of that before you started drinking."

            "Go to hell."

            Logan looked at the ground.  "Crap, kid, how many have you had?"

            "Not enough."

            Chuckling, Logan lifted Leslie to her feet.  Immediately, she fell back down.  He sighed and picked her up.  

            "Lemme go.  I'm fine."

            "You're drunk.  Chuck'll kill me."

            "You've got a healing factor.  You'll live."  Closing her eyes, she did the smartest thing she'd done all night—she passed out.


	5. Well, Cookie Monster, you want to rot yo...

            A/N:  Ahem, little note, not supporting under-age drinking in any way.  Just thought I should mention that.  

            Disclaimer: 
    
                   "We are all but players in a tragedy far larger than any of us. A tragedy called       
    
                   life, Logan. But today, for you, perhaps for me, the curtain falls… and the play     
    
                   is finished.     
    
                   Magneto X-Men 25

            The jackhammers were annoying.

            That was Leslie's first conscious thought the next morning.  

            Her second thought was that the bathroom wasn't close enough, and the garbage can would just have to do.

            Exhausted, she lay back in bed, trying to keep her head on.

            "Rough night, kid?"  
  


            Yelping, she turned over to see Wolverine grinning sadistically at her from her desk.

            "You.  I thought you were supposed to keep me from overdoing it."

            He shrugged unrepentantly.  "You were already drunk when I got there.  Besides, drinking temporarily dulls my senses."

            Groaning, she flopped back and stared at her eyelids.  "Now I remember why I never drink."

            "Good, cause you've got class in twenty."

            "WHAT?!" Leslie demanded.  She sat up too quickly, emptying her stomach again.

            Logan scrunched his nose in distaste.  "Class.  You do remember what a class is, right?"

            "You're evil."  She commented from her place on the bed.

            "No one told you to get drunk."

            "Go to hell."

            "Sorry, kid, other plans for today."  Still grinning, he swaggered out of the room, pausing at the door.  "By the way, I told Hank about your stunt.  He's insisting you get counseling."

            His only answer was a thrown pillow and the sound of retching.

            _Dealing with this joke I call a life on a normal day is bad enough, but dealing with it hung over?  Not going to be fun._

_            Especially when I have Emma first block.  _

_            I hope someone's enjoying this, case I sure as hell ain't._

Julia gasped when she saw Leslie.  "What happened to you?" she hissed, eyes wide.

            "Don't. Ask."

            "Did you finish the book?"

            "Too loud.  No talking."

            Confused, Julia was about to demand an explanation when Emma looked up from her desk.  "If you're all finished," she said sarcastically.

            Julia quickly pulled out her notebook.  Leslie just groaned and put her head in her hands.

            Emma quickly took role then went to the front of the room.  She surveyed her class, then smiled maliciously at Leslie.  "Miss Corring."

            Leslie forced her head up. "Yes?"

            "Tell me about the character of Marion."

            "…I can't.  Sorry."

            Emma raised a delicate eyebrow.  "Really?  Then tell me about any character.  You chose."

            "I can't, though I'm sure someone else can."

            Quiet giggles erupted in the back of the room.  _Damn Cuckoos…_

            "I didn't ask anyone else.  I asked you.  How much of the book _did you finish?"_

            Leslie felt like throwing the bloody book at her.  "I didn't read any of it," she forced out between gritted teeth.

            Emma pulled herself up to her full height.  "Miss Corring, this is a difficult class.  If you aren't up to the work, perhaps you should transfer to a less…requiring class.  Unless, of course, you had more pressing work last night?"

            Leslie looked up at her, ready to snap something nasty, then grinned.  "It just drives you nuts that you can't read my mind, doesn't it?"

            Silence.  You did _not say things like that to the White Queen.  Julia was frantically motioning for Leslie to shut up.  Leslie ignored her._

            Emma's cold smile had totally disappeared.  "I don't know what things were like at your previous school, but here students show respect for teachers."

            "Sorry, I have trouble respecting anyone who goes around wearing less than a Victoria's Secret model."  Ignoring Emma's furious expression and her classmates' shocked looks, Leslie calmly picked up her bag and left the room.

            Once outside, she leaned against the wall.  Her head was about to fall off, she was sure of it.

            But damn, she'd enjoyed that.

            "Hank?" she called, walking into the lab she'd grown familiar with.  Leslie wrinkled her nose at the smell of antiseptic and…sugar?

            "Leslie?  What on earth are you doing here?  I thought you were being instructed in the works of the great literary minds."

            _You know, his fancy-talk gets really__ annoying after awhile.  "Emma and I had…a disagreement."  Seeing the curious look on his face, she elaborated.  "She annoyed me.  I left."_

            "That may not have been the wisest of paths to take with Ms Frost."

            "I could care less what she thinks of me," Leslie said carelessly, flopping into a chair across from him.  Eyeing a wrapper, she picked it up.  "Twinkies, I presume?"

            Hank's eyes twinkled.  "The food of the gods."

            "Ugh.  Well, Cookie Monster, you want to rot your teeth, knock yourself out."

            Hank laughed.  "I'm pleased that you've gotten over your fear of me."

            Leslie blushed.  "I-I wasn't afraid of you," she lied, then, seeing the look on his face, gave up.  "How'd you know?"

            He tapped his nose.  "Smelled it."

            Still blushing, she pulled her knees to her chest.  "I'm…still afraid, to tell you the truth.  But…not like I was.  Not of you, at least."

            Hank eyed her curiously.  "Then, if I may be so bold to ask, which member of our angst-convention known as the X-Men is it that scares you still?"

            "Kurt," she admitted, holding her knees tighter.  "But…don't tell him, okay?  He was nice.  I wouldn't want him hurt, or anything."

            "You're secret, mademoiselle, is as safe as if in Fort Knox.  But I assure you, you have nothing to fear from our favorite elf."

            "Look, let's drop it, okay?  I just came to tell you that I don't need counseling.  I'm _fine.  Really.  Well, probably a little psychotic, but fine."  She grinned, trying to convince him._

            It didn't work.  "I highly doubt that you are fine.  Students who are 'fine' do not go out and get drunk in the middle of the night."

            "In my defense, I'm not a normal student."

            "No, you're not.  More reason for the counseling."

            Sighing, Leslie threw her legs out and glared at him.  "Are you going to tell them?"

            "No.  I leave that up to you, if and when you feel ready."  Seeing the look in her eyes, he reached out and engulfed her hand in his paw.  "This is for _you_, Leslie.  To make it easier for _you."_

            She snorted.  "Yeah, right.  But if ya insist, ya insist."  She stood up, then, wincing, looked at him.  "But can I at least have something for my head?"

            _I will hurt him.  He had NO right to go and tell Hank.  He will die, slowly and painfully._

_            I just don't know how, yet._

            Trying not to move, Leslie stared at her ceiling.  After talking to Hank, she'd skipped the rest of her classes and slept.  Sleep was good.  Sleep and the Tylenol Hank'd given her were all that were keeping her from collapsing.  

            A herd of elephants crashed into her door.  Groaning, Leslie managed to yell, "Come in!" before flopping back against the pillow.  

            Bobby burst in, slamming the door behind him. 

            "AAAHHH!! Not so loud!  Dying person!"

            Ignoring her, he proceeded to ice up her entire wall that touched the hallway.

            Curiosity getting the better of her, much to her chagrin, she sat up.  "Why are you freezing my wall?"

            Frantic, Bobby turned around, searching for an exit.  "Do those windows open?"  

            "Bobby!  _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"_

"Remember how you told me Rogue's real name?"

            "Marie?  Yeah, why?"

            "Well, I sorta sent her an e-mail…"

            Totally aware now, Leslie jumped up next to him.  "What?"

            "…and she didn't take it real well…"

            "BOBBY!"

            A shuddering of the wall caused Bobby to thrust his iced-up fist through her window.  "Look, I'll fix your room later, okay?"

            The ice was starting to crack.  

            "You are _not leaving me here alone!" she yelled, grabbing his arm.  "__I'm the one who _told_ you!"_

            The ice chose that moment to collapse.

            "Then hang on!" he yelled, grabbing her and jumping through the window, forming an ice-slide as he went.

            "DRAKE!  AH'M GONNA KILL YA!"  _Wow, Rogue sounds pissed!_

            "You won't have to worry about her if I get to you first!" Leslie yelled in his ear, clinging on for dear life.  She glanced over his shoulder and saw one _very_ angry Southern Belle.  "Go faster!! FASTER!!'

            "Think we can blame this on Kurt?"

            " 'We?' What 'we?'  No, don't go down! Up! UP!!  ARGGHH, that's a _tree_!  I did not need a mouth full of leaves, thank you!!"

            "If your mouth had been closed, the leaves wouldn't have gotten in!  Besides, we made it!"

            "Again with that 'we.'  This is _your_ fault, Popsicle!  I didn't tell you to go e-mail Rogue!"

            "I doubt _she'll see it that way!"_

            "I know things about you too, Frost-bite.  Be careful.  _Very careful!"_

            "HAH!  What do you know about me?  I'm an open book!"

            "Watch out for the pole!!  I know what's happening to you."

            "…I don't know what you're talking about."

            "Oh, yes, you do, Drake!  You're changing to ice and can't go back.  Bobby!!  BRANCH!!!"

_            CCCRRRRAAAASSHHH!!!_

            Groaning, Leslie rubbed the back of her head.  Bobby was lying next to her on the ground, staring at her.  "…I won't tell.  I promise," she said softly, extending her hand.

            Gingerly, he took it.  "We need to talk," he whispered, before plastering on a cheesy grin.  "Rogue!  Was that you calling for me?"

            _I knew I should have staid in bed today, Leslie thought as she sat back down with her back against the tree, resting her head.  She could die sitting down, same as standing up._

            Rogue was not happy.  "Bobby," she hissed, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the tree.  "How?"

            "…am I doing?  Well, having a bit of trouble breathing, but otherwise I'm fine, thanks, how—urk!"

            Rogue tightened her grip.  "That's not what I meant."

            "If you're going to kill him, would you mind waiting til he fixes my room?  I really don't need water stains everywhere," Leslie said.

            Rogue dropped Bobby.  "Who are you?"

            "Leslie.  I'm the one who told him your real name," she said cheerfully.

            Bobby stared at her, rubbing his throat.  "You're insane."

            "Probably.  But don't forget, I'm also hung over!"

            "How," Rogue said threateningly, "did you know my name?"

            "Oh, easy.  I'm from an alternate universe where all this is just a comic book.  By the way, I gotta say, your relationship with Remy?  Sooooo annoying.  It's like a bad episode of 'Friends."  'Ah love Remy, Ah _hate__ Remy, Ah __love Remy, Ah _hate_ Remy!'  Really, get over it!  Come on, Bobby, you've gotta fix my room."  With that, she grabbed Bobby's arm and led him toward the Institute, leaving a very confused Rogue to search for someone to explain it to her._

            "_How did you do that?"_

            "Easy.  My life's driving _me nuts, I just thought about what it'd do to her.  Besides, I couldn't think of a way to blame it on Kurt."_


	6. Go, eat breakfast, annoy Emma

A/N: Time to answer questions! No, Leslie is not pregnant, and alcoholic, or a drug addict.  No, Leslie doesn't hate Rogue, she was just trying to keep Rogue from killing both her and Bobby.  When will you find out what her mutation is?  Soon.  I do promise that she's not a telepath or a telekinetic, though you may not like what she is.  I decided to go with my original idea, and there's clues throughout the story, if you want to try and guess.  There not super obvious, though.  Read below, it's one of my all-time favorite scenes!  Oh, and the book Leslie remember is The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis, one of the Chronicles of Narnia.  

Disclaimer:

Brian: "Basically, we believe that, underneath that unutterably fowl exterior, 

you're halfway decent."

Kurt: "I'll agree to you staying on the team. But if you ever--"

Brian: "EVER."

Kurt: "Hurt Kitty…" 

Brian: "I will without hesitation tear your head off."

Kurt: "And I will spend days mocking it and drawing pictures all over it before 

teleporting it into the north sea."

Pete: "Well, the urge to go to the little boys room has now… left me."  -- Excalibur #91 

            "That was dumb, Bobby!  Dumb!  Not fail-a-test dumb, either, that was I-wonder-what-happens-when-I-push-the button-labeled-'launch'-dumb!  That was beyond dumb!"

            "Alright, I get it," Bobby snapped, "it was dumb!  Now, can we please talk about what you know?"

            Leslie glared at him.  "Dumb," she muttered, before sighing.  "What's there to talk about?  I said I wouldn't tell anyone.  None of _my business."_

            "Why do I doubt that that makes a difference to you?"

            Leslie sighed, rubbing her head.  "Look, I'm sorry, okay?  I'm sorry I know, I'm sorry I told you I know, I'm sorry I'm trapped in this whole damn dimension!  BUT I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"  She grabbed the nearest object—her phone—and through it against the wall as she yelled the last part.

            Stunned, she looked at the broken phone, then at Bobby.  "…I'm sorry," she finished quietly.

            Bobby looked at her.  "Yeah, I guess you are."  Carefully, he picked up the phone and handed it back to her.  "It should snap back together."  Seeing her puzzled look, he sheepishly grinned.  "I used to have one just like it."

            Leslie managed a small smile in return.  "Thanks."

            "No problem.  That's what I'm here for.  Well, that and in case the fridge breaks!"  With a grin he left, still hoping to avoid Rogue.

            Exhausted, physically and emotionally, Leslie curled up on her bed and fell asleep.

            _I slept for hours.  I would have loved to have woken up, though.  Because the blackness came back._

_            It was stronger than ever…and it wanted me.  The laughter was louder and closer.  I'd never cried in a dream before, but I did that night…_

_            I couldn't take it anymore, so I did something.  Something I didn't know I could do…_

            Panting with fear and exhaustion, Leslie shuddered on the ground.  Slowly, she opened her eyes, fearing that she'd still see the blackness.  It was gone.

            Shakily, she stood up.  She was outside, but nowhere she'd ever been before.  The sun was red, the color of a dying ember.  It reminded her of a book her father had once read to her as a child…the sun of a dying world.  It was cold.

            Hearing a noise, she turned to see a group of men, standing in front of some statue.  Curious, she walked over.  They didn't seem to see her.  She stood in front of the statue, looked up, then gasped.

            It wasn't a statue.  It was a cross in the shape of an "X."  And Kurt was on it.  He looked at her, and such pain was in his eyes she nearly vomited.  Crying anew, but this time for him, she tried to move closer, to get him down…

            But the blackness pulled her back in.

            Shivering, Leslie woke up.  The now-familiar feeling of nausea resided in her stomach, but she ignored it, hoping it would just go away.  She threw back the covers, soaking with her sweat, and stood up.  Grabbing a robe, she hurried to the bathroom.

            Once there, she passed the toilets and entered a shower stall, trying to wash away the nightmare with her sweat.  Letting the warm water pour over her, she stood there, thinking, enjoying being in a dark that wasn't trying to get her.

            It had been real.

            Nothing in her doubted it for a moment.  The blackness wasn't a nightmare, or at least not an ordinary one.  There was a sense of malevolence in it, a _will, almost.  She remembered it from when she'd come here.  That alone scared her._

            But what scared her more was Kurt's dream.  Or was it her own?  She remembered reading about his nightmare, so possibly it _was_ her own…but there was something about his eyes that made her know it wasn't.

            _So, Leslie mentally sighed, __fairly certain I just was in someone else's dream.  Also certain that the nightmare I've _been having is more than a nightmare.  In addition to that, I know have to figure out whether or not to tell Kurt about what the Pontiff did to him, and if I wasn't scared of Kurt before, I am now._  Grimacing, she slid down the wall until she was in a sitting position beneath the water.  _…This is not good.  Not good at all._ _

            Eventually, she heard a knock on her stall.  "Hello?  Anyone in there?"  

            Wondering how long she'd been sitting, Leslie turned off the water and grabbed her robe.  Fastening it, she opened the door to see a very startled Paige.  "Not you again," she groaned, not thinking.

            Paige's eyes narrowed, but her tone remained civil.  "Ah thought you weren't a mornin' person."

            "And _Ah thought you had manners," Leslie snapped back, blinking at the bright lights.  "Jeeze, what kind of lights do you guys have here?  Trying to blind me?"  She moved to go, but Paige grabbed her arm.  Turning, Leslie noticed that Paige was looking at her rather curiously.  "What?"_

            "…Have you looked in a mirror?" Paige asked, her voice surprisingly gentle.

            "No, Paige, why?"  _I really have to stop being so nasty to people…_

"Just…look in one, okay?"

            Wondering what Paige was on, Leslie obeyed her and walked over to one of the sinks.  What she saw made her yell several colorful, and, incidentally, anatomically impossible, remarks, much to Paige's displeasure.

            Her once-blue eyes were jet black, which would have been enough to make her freak out, but there was more.  They iris and the pupils of her eyes were indistinguishable and were spreading over the white.  Already, little white was left.  

            "Leslie, it's okay," Paige soothed.

            "Okay?! I LOOK LIKE A FREAKIN' ANIME CHARACTER!"  _Plus my eyes really hurt from the damn lights!_

            "Look, it's just your mutation."

            "Paige?  I know you're trying to be helpful and all, but you _suck_ at it!  Okay?  So just leave me alone while I go try and find my room with the damn lights blinding me and all!

            Paige sighed.  "You're eyes are probably just sensitive.  Here, I'll help you to your room.  Get dressed, and I'll bring Doctor McCoy to check you."

            "I don't _need your help."_

            "Yes, you do."  With that, Paige grabbed Leslie's arm and began to guide her.  "Now, come on."

            Grumbling, Leslie relented.  Finally making it to her room, Paige opened the door and flipped on the lights.

            "Arrggh!! Turn the lights _off!"_

            Wordlessly, Paige obeyed.  Leslie sighed in relief, then gasped when her vision cleared.  She could see everything, as clearly as if the lights were on.  

            "I'm going now, okay?"

            "Yeah, fine," Leslie said, walking over to her closet and opening the door.  

            Paige stared at her, then, shaking her head, left.

            _People should not see in the dark.  Well, not the way I was.  I mean, if anything, I was seeing better than I normally do!  It was ridiculous!  But fairly cool, too…_

            Hank blinked when he entered the dark room, grateful for the night-vision his current mutation had blessed him with.  "Leslie?"

            "Here, Hank," she said softly from her place on the bed.  "Mind closing the door?  Light and I apparently aren't getting along that well."

            "So Paige tells me," he said dryly as he acquiesced to her demand.  Setting down his bag, he sat across from her, studying her eyes.  "Fascinating.  

            "What, you Mr. Spock now?"

            Ignoring her, he pulled out a small flashlight.  "Hold still."  With that, he flashed it into her eyes.

            "Crap!  Hank, are you _trying to blind me?"_

            "Not at all.  I merely wished to test a hypothesis."

            "Well, you tested, now what?"

            Returning the flashlight to his bag, Hank answered her.  "When the eye does not have enough light to see with, the pupil expands, attempting to gather more light.  With the introduction of additional light, it contracts."

            "Ooookayy,"

            "You're eyes have mutated into, basically, giant pupils, allowing you to see in the dark.  This, however, has made them extremely sensitive to even normal levels of light."

            "So, what do I do?  I mean, as far as I've been able to tell, class takes place during the day."

            Hank chuckled.  "Mostly, yes.  For now?  I suggest you wear these," he said, tossing her a pair of sunglasses.  "They'll block most light.  I suspected this might be the case when Paige told me of you plight, so I grabbed them."

            Frowning, Leslie held them.  "I'd really rather not going around wearing sunglasses forever.  Cyclops I am not."

            "Indeed.  I believe that eventually your eyes will adjust to regular levels of light.  Probably within the next week or so.  After all, they just mutated last night.  Which brings me to a quandary.  What on earth were you doing up and in the shower at 4:30?!"

            Leslie started.  "…bad dream."

            Hank nodded.  "Ah.  That explains a lot.  May I suggest you mention it in your counseling session with Jean?"

            "Yeah.  Sure."  Leslie was distracted, thinking over the dream.  "Hank?"

            He turned around.  "Yes?"

            "What…what does it mean if you find yourself in someone else's dream?"

            Hank furrowed his brow.  "Normally it means that the person was thinking of you at some point before they fell asleep."

            "No," Leslie said, frustrated, "not like that.  Like, _you_ in their dream."

            Realization dawning, Hank quickly sat back down.  "Leslie, did this happen to you?"

            She nodded.

            "…I'd like to run some tests, if you don't mind coming down to the lab."

            Sighing, Leslie stood up and put her sunglasses on.  "Of course, my home-away-from-home."  She followed him, barely blinking in the bright light of the hall.

            "Hmmm."  Hank had said "hmmm" more times than Leslie cared to count.

            "What, Hank?  What 'hmmm?'"

            Startled, Hank looked up.  "Oh, there you are, Leslie."  Ready to blow, Leslie forcibly shut her mouth.  "These results are…interesting, to say the least."

            "Well, tell me what they are!"

            Hank blinked.  "Oh, of course.  Well," he cleared his throat, "you are _not_ a telepath."

            Leslie stared at him.  "That's _it?"_

            Hank looked hurt.  "The logical assumption to make about someone entering someone else's dream is that they are a telepath.  Are you _sure_ it was someone else's dream?"

            "Hank.  I'm low on sleep, have a headache from light, and my eyes have just gone nutso.  Do you _really_ want to ask me that?"

            "Right.  Well, frankly, I don't know how you entered another's dream, but I'll continue running some blood work."

            "So…can I go?"

            "Sure.  Go, eat breakfast, annoy Emma."

            Leslie flashed him a grin.  "Was there ever any doubt about the last one?"


	7. Hey, if Emma asks where I am, tell her I...

A/N:  sorry for the delay, this silly little thing called life took precedence.  Just some little notes, here.  One, while the part of the current arc in Uncanny involving the Dominant Species doesn't happen, the personal, daily life stuff does, such as Alex coming out of his coma and Kurt's interaction with Father Whitney.  (Which I thought was terrible.  Having Kurt leave the priesthood is one thing, but if they have him leave the church I'm gonna be majorly pissed.)  Two, remember how I mentioned before that Leslie's mutation and power aren't the same thing?  Her eyes are her mutation, but her power…well, that hasn't showed up yet, has it?  Or _has_ it?  Only I know!! ::grins evilly::  BIG hint in this chapter as to what her power is, if you can find it!

Disclaimer: 

Cable: "Let's move, people!… I mean, Play ball!"  --X-Men '96

            "Don't _ever do that again," Julia snapped at Leslie._

            Blinking behind her glasses, Leslie looked at her like she was nuts.  "What'd I do?"

            "Telling off Emma?  Leaving class?  Being chased by _Rogue all over the whole school?  Choose one!"_

            "Look, I'm sorry if you worried," Leslie started, greatly annoyed, but was cut off.

            "Worried?  Next time, _tell me so I can join you!"_

            Leslie blinked again, still feeling like she'd missed something.  "Huh?"

            Julia scowled at her.  "Do you have any idea how boring English was?  Emma just sat at her desk, glaring at us if we moved!  Being chased by an X-Man would have been _much more fun."_

            Leslie shook her head.  "You're crazy."  She then grinned.  "That must be why we get along so well!"

            Julia laughed at her, then frowned.  "What's up with the glasses?"

            Leslie grimaced.  "Mutation.  Night vision.  My eyes are pretty sensitive to light."

            "Oh," Julia replied sympathetically, then perked up.  "Hey, do they look any different?"

            "Yeah," Leslie said absentmindedly, poking her cereal.

            Julia quickly pulled the glasses off, startling Leslie.  "What the hell did you do that for?" Leslie snapped, quickly closing her eyes and blindly grabbing for the glasses.

            Julia shrugged.  "I wanted to see.  Man, they're pretty cool!"

            "Really?" Leslie asked, surprised.  She hadn't thought about them much, what with the nightmares and all.  "…You _could have __asked."_

            "But you might have said no," Julia replied, taking a sip of her drink and then frowning.  "Gross, I thought this was apple juice."  Frowning with concentration, she held her hand over the cup, which briefly glowed violet.  She took a sip, smiling.  "Much better."

            Leslie watched her in awe.  "Now _that was cool."_

            Julia blushed.  "Thanks, but that's about all I can do.  Like I said, _limited_ energy-matter conversion."

            "So?  Still cool."

            "I guess.  I'm afraid to ask, but did you finish the book yet?"

            Leslie winced.  "No.  I…had some issues last night that needed to be dealt with."

            Julia looked at her pityingly.  "You know Emma's gonna kill you."

            Glancing at the clock, Leslie stood up, stretching.  "She'll have to kill me later, I've gotta be somewhere now."

            Julia's mouth dropped.  "You're skipping _again?"_

            Leslie grinned at her.  "Hey, if Emma asks where I am, tell her I had a breakdown caused by laughing to hard at the drawings of her used in a cartoon."

            "…You've _got to tell me more about your home!"_

            "Later, Julia," Leslie laughed, then paused.  "Though I must say…the guy who played Cyclops in the movie?  Positively _yummy_!"

            Julia shrieked in horror, drawing stares from around the room, and Leslie sauntered out, still laughing.

            _I'm starting to feel like I'm losing myself…this person I am here isn't who I was before…skipping class is not something Leslie Corring did.  Mocking teachers is not something Leslie Corring did.  I'm trying to blow it off, cover it with jokes…_

_            Something's different, though…and it's not just the shock of being here.  Something about **me** is different…_

_            And it scares me more than Kurt ever could…_

            Leslie sat under the tree again, this time without the alcohol.  She's come to think of it, already, as _her spot.  She closed her eyes behind the glasses, enjoying the relief it brought._

            "Hey, it's mini-Cyke!"

            Opening her eyes, Leslie glared up at Bobby.  "Shut up."

            "Grouchy, ain't ya?  What's up with the glasses?  It's not _that bright out!  Or are you blinded by my handsome appearance?"_

            Leslie snorted.  "Oh, yeah, baby, you turn me on.  Let's make a new X-team, shall we?"

            Bobby had the good grace to blush as he grinned.  "Hey, my calendar's always open for you!"

            Leslie smiled.  "To answer your question, my mutation kicked in.  Night vision, but my eyes aren't handling light that well.  At least, for now."

            Bobby's grin dropped.  "Bummer."

            "Like, totally, man.  Now, let's head down to the beach, and, like, groove!"

            He glared at her.  "You're way to sarcastic, you know that, right?"

            Leslie smiled sweetly.  "Sarcasm?  I know not what it is you speak of."

            He groaned.  "That's what I thought.  Look, Emma's going nuts cause you aren't there.  Are you planning on showing up, or did I never see you?"

            "You never saw me."

            "Right.  Gotcha.  But you might not want to piss her off.  She's not nice when you piss her off."

            Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Emma's not nice most of the time.  It's not in her nature."

            "Whatever.  Your neck, not mine."  With that he left, whistling innocently.

            _I wished he'd staid.  When he was here, I felt some better…I was distracted…couldn't think about the fact that something's seriously wrong with me…_

_            Why am I doing this?  What **is** wrong with me?  Where'd Leslie go?  Who **am** I?_

_            I'm scared to find out…_

Leslie opened her eyes, groaning as she stretched. She'd fallen asleep after Bobby left, her body betraying her mind.  _At least I only had to deal with my own nightmares…_

            The sun was setting, making her realize she'd slept through most of the day, missing not only Emma's class, but all her others, and Jean's session.  Thinking about how mad they would all be, she decided against heading in.  Instead, she walked into the woods adjoining the school grounds. 

            Beneath the shadows of the trees, it was dark enough that she was able to discard her glasses.  She shivered a bit, the cool night air making her hair stand on end, but continued in, as if drawn from an invisible force.

            She didn't know how long she'd walked when she heard a noise.  Curious, something she'd really have to learn to stop being, she followed it.  It lead her to a small fire, dim, but bright enough she put the glasses on.

            Drawing closer, she saw Kurt, his face more demonic than ever with the fire's glow on it.  Her first instinct was to turn and run, hoping he hadn't noticed her, but she stopped, a sudden sense of dread and loneliness falling over her.  _I can't leave him here…and I can't go back through this woods alone…_

She quietly walked over to him.  "Kurt?"

            Startled, he let out a yelp and jumped up, crouching into a fighting stance, before he realized who it was.  "Leslie?  _Mein_ Gott_, you scared me!"_

            "Sorry."  She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do, before moving closer.  "Kurt…what's wrong?"

            He looked up, surprised.  "Nothing."

            She glared at him, disgusted and angry.  "Not 'nothing,' Kurt!  Dammit, _what's wrong_?!  You're out in the middle of the woods at night, brooding!"

            His yellow eyes narrowed.  "And vhat are you doing?"

            She smiled a bit at that.  "Brooding.  Kurt, you can tell me, really."

            He glared at her.  "Ve're just met.  Vhy vould I tell _you_?"

            "Hell, Kurt, I don't know.  Maybe because we _have_ just met.  Maybe cause you just need to talk."  Seeing his unconvinced look, she added, softly, "And maybe cause your nightmare's are as bad as mine."

            His head snapped up.  "Vhat do you know of nightmares?"

            "More than I ever wished to.  I can barely deal with my own, Kurt, but now…now I'm seeing yours, too.  And dammit, but they scare me."

            He laughed, bitterly.  "Do you think it's the nightmares that scare you?  I thought it vas my appearance."

            Angry and embarrassed, she shot back at him, "It was.  Dammit, what do you expect?  People aren't supposed to _look_ like you!  But I'm dealing with that!  These nightmares, Kurt…they terrify me in ways your appearance didn't."

            He looked at her with haunted eyes.  "…you really saw them?"

            "Yes."

            Silence.  Then, "I don't know, Leslie.  I vas fine, then…these nightmares started, then doubts, then…" he blushed, unable to go on.  

            Leslie blushed too, knowing what it was he didn't say.  "I get it, Kurt.  Comics, remember?"

            He nodded, blush intensifying.  "Vhat should  I believe, Leslie?  In a God who lets these terrible things happen?  Who lets people hate and kill?  Who makes people like me?"  His voice cracked on the end.

            _How the hell did I end up having an intimate conversation with **him**, of all people?!  She sat there a moment, then, sighing, pulled on a chain she wore.  She looked at it, and the crucifix it held.  "And how do I believe," she said quietly, "in that same God, when he lets these things happen, Kurt?"  He looked at her, startled.  "You think you're the only Catholic?  The only Christian?  Only one to ever doubt?  Kurt, what do you want me to tell you?  I'm 17.  A week ago, I thought my greatest worry was whether or not I'd have a scar after having my gull bladder out.  Now, I find out that I'll never see anyone I know again, that this place I thought was make-believe is real.  Last night my eyes change," she said as she removed her glasses, startling him, "and I can't stand light.  I have nightmares, worse than anything you can _imagine_, Kurt, every time I sleep, and I'm not who I was before all this!  I'm someone else, someone different, and I don't know why or how!  But what can __I do, Kurt?  _Not_ believe?  What good does that do?  This life I have sucks, but would it be any better without God?  How can I believe that, Kurt?"_

            He stared at her, watching her eyes fill with tears.  "…vhat a pair ve are," he said quietly, making her laugh.

            Wiping her eyes, she looked at him.  "Kurt…"  _You can't tell him about the Pontiff!  What will happen if you do?_  "…things will get better," she finished lamely, cursing herself and her fear.

            "_Ja_.  But vhat until then?"

            Leslie put her glasses back on.  "Until then?  Work to make them better, I guess."

            He looked at her.  "Perhaps."

            She shrugged, standing.  She was full of conflicting emotions, but also strangely felt more at peace than she had for days.  "So…wanna go back?"

            "_Nein_.  But might as vell."

            "…And I'm not scared of you, you know.  Not anymore."

            "_Danke_."

            With that, they headed back towards the school, both seeing through the night, but both still lost.


	8. Damn, guess I'm not telekenetic

A/N:  ::sighs happily:: I love my reviews.  Anywho, just a few questions to answer.  Oh yes, most definitely there will be more X-Men, and more Cyclops.  Just gotta set it up, dontcha know.  Ummm…oh yeah, Rogue does have her powers in this.  I mean, come on, we all know she's gonna get them back.  Duh.

Disclaimer:

Jean: "I must confess, infuriating and arrogant as Gambit can be... those eyes, 

that grin, the body-- it takes a girl's breath away."

Scott: "Oh, really? When next the opportunity presents itself...remind me to drop 

a truck on him."

Xavier: "Cyclops."

Scott: "A big truck."

 Xavier: "Cyclops!"

Scott: "A really big truck."

Xavier: "CYCLOPS!"     X-Men 1

            …tick, tock, tick, tock…

            Leslie stared at the clock, willing it to move.  _Damn, guess I'm not telekinetic._

            "We can talk, if you'd like," Jean suggested.

            "No thanks."

            …tick, tock, tick, tock…

            "Why'd you skip classes?"

            "I thought we weren't talking.'

            "Sorry."

            …tick, tock…

            4:00.  Leslie stood up and stretched.  "So, see you tomorrow, I guess."

            Jean smiled.  "Of course."

            Rolling her eyes, Leslie left.  

            Bobby was waiting for her outside the door.

            "Oh, God, not _YOU_!"

            He gave her a hurt expression.  "Leslie, I'm cut to the quick."

            "Uh-huh.  Right.  What'd ya want?"

            He became serious.  "Look, about that thing we discussed…"

            "Yeah?"

            "…You wouldn't know a way to stop it, would you?"

            Leslie shook her head.  "Sorry.  Why?"

            He scratched the back of his neck.  "It's getting worse."

            "Oh, man, I'm sorry, Bobby."

            He shrugged. "Not your fault."  He left quickly, hoping to avoid being detected by Jean.

            Sighing, Leslie headed the opposite way, irritably shoving her sunglasses up her nose as she did so.  Already, her eyes could tolerate sunlight at dusk, but the bright light of day was still too much.

            Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, she waited for the crowd to move before heading up the stairs.  She paused at the landing, though, seeing a group of students marking on something.  "What's that?"

            Paige turned around—_Dammit, can't I get away from her?_—and answered her.  "Sign up fer going into town this weekend.  If you're planning on going, sign up now."

            Shrugging, Leslie did so, noticing the time for Mass listed on the paper.  _9:30__, huh?__  Not too bad…at least it isn't __8:00._

            She continued to her room, grabbing her copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ as she entered, ignoring the light switch.  "Emma really needs a new favorite author," she grumbled before settling onto her bed.

            Despite the multiple bottles of Dr. Pepper she'd downed, she quickly fell asleep.

            _It scares me worse than ever, the blackness, because now it's familiar.  I want it to be unknown again, a stranger.  I hate that I recognize it…_

_            It ripped into me worse than ever, tearing way parts of me.  I screamed, desperately begging for help, and then…_

_            It wasn't light, nor sound, nor scent, nor touch, not taste, but all of those, and something else.  Suddenly, I felt others, and I wondered…_

_            …so cute so cute like him, like me?..._

_            …idiot, stupid, go away…_

_            …love you, fear, hate me…_

_            …love…_

_            …fear…_

_            …hate…_

_            …hope…_

_            Tearing me, not like the blackness, but different…not from without, but within…_

_            And I screamed…        _

Jean breathlessly ran up the stairs to the girls' corridor, nearly knocking Charles over.   "Charles, what happened, I was in my office…"

            He held up a hand.  "I know.  The whole school's having a panic attack!  Where's Emma?"

            "Calming Terrance Jong and Kaylee Smith.  They seem to have been hit the worst so far."

            Xavier suddenly stopped before a door.   Jean looked at him, nodding.  They entered and stopped in there tracks.

            There lay Leslie, asleep, but writhing as if in pain.  The vague feelings they could pick up from her were horrifying and conflicting.  Hurriedly, Charles moved over and began to shake her.  "Leslie, come on, wake up."

            Suddenly, a feeling of desperation, of pure terror, washed over them both.  Charles was reminded of the death of his son, Jean of Scott's death.

            Gasping, Jean reached over and shook Leslie violently.  With a sudden motion, she snapped her eyes open, sitting bolt upright.  Shaking violently, she didn't seem to focus on anything.

            Jean gently touched the side of her face and was startled when Leslie recoiled away from her.  Realizing who it was, Leslie suddenly burst into tears and threw herself into Jean's arms.  Jean hesitantly put her arms around her and began to rock her back and forth, trying to calm her.

            Scott burst through the door, taking the scene in.  He glanced at Xavier with a questioning look, inclining his head toward the women on the bed.  

            Xavier shook his head.  _We don't know.  She was asleep when we came in.  _

_            Telepathy?_

_            No, Hank tested her for that recently.  My guess?  Empathy._

_            Meggan never did anything like **this**._

_            Megans a receptive empath.  I suspect that Leslie's manipulative._

_            Hmmm…oh, shit!  I forgot!  Prof, Kurt was in the middle of a training session when the wave hit.  It hit him badly, and he fell.  He's in the infirmary._

            Xavier's head snapped up.  He quickly followed Scott out of the room, leaving Jean behind to comfort the sobbing Leslie.


	9. So high, so high, high enough to die?

A/N:  Well, it's another chapter!  Yes, I came out with another one!  That's how it works, ya know, you review, I write.  Uh-huh.  Yea.  Anywho, I got this idea for an Excalibur/10th Kingdom crossover, but I was wondering if anyone would actually read it.  If you think it's a good idea, let me know!  Please?  Pretty please?  Thanks!  Oh, and go visit my website, I made a Leslie doll!!  I think it's pretty good!  The address is at my profile.

Disclaimer: 

"Coffee is the only thing keeping Uncle's ancient heart beating!  You want dead Uncle?  No?  Then go make coffee!"

~Uncle, Jackie Chan Adventures (And boy, is he right!)

            Leslie shivered in her sick bed, reaching for a glass of water.  Her "manifestation," as Hank called it, had taken a toll on her body as well as the student body.  Chills, dehydration, and headaches were running through her body, not to mention the stress that came with suddenly knowing how every person in the school was feeling.  Especially since they were all panicked, hurt, and stressed.

            She glanced at her neighboring bed where Kurt lay unconscious, his left leg bandaged.  Her heart ached, not just because she felt his pain, but also from knowing that it was her fault he was injured.  At least, according to Hank.  Not that he'd said it in so many words, but she could read between the lines.  In fact, it was easier now than ever to do so.  

            _Damn it all to hell and back! She thought angrily, throwing the blankets aside.  On shaky legs she rose, careful to be quiet.  She sent one last painful glance to Kurt, sending a silent prayer for his recovery, then silently left.  _

            _They hate me._

_            Not all of them, of course, but most do.  I made their worst fears real.  I don't think they can ever forgive me for that._

_            I lied to Kurt when I told him I no longer feared him.  He scares me more than ever, especially now that I feel his pain.  Not the physical pain I caused, but the emotional pain, the spiritual pain.  His soul's in torment.  **That** scares me._

_            And Jean and Scott scare me.  They hurt so much, their love is so troubled.  I hate Emma for what she's doing to him, to them.  But I hurt for her, too, so much loss, so much pain.  She hates herself, blames herself._

_            Xavier's in pain, he misses someone so much—I assume Lilandra—it's going to kill him.  I hope he realizes it soon._

_            I can't do this.  I can't feel this.  It's too much.  Too many feelings, too real, too much pain, too little happiness._

_            It's got to end. _

_            And I'll end it._

Kurt woke up with a start and tried to get up, but was overcome with pain.

            "Careful," Annie admonished, rushing over.  "You've got a nasty cut there.  Don't want to tear the stitches out."

            "Leslie," he gasped.  "Vhere's Leslie?"

            "She's over…" Annie trailed off, noticing the bed was empty.  "Now where the hell did she go?!"

            Kurt grunted, pulling himself up into a sitting position, then rising.  "Call Xavier.  Ve've got to find her."

            "Get back in bed, you crazy German!"  Annie yelled.  "You can't be up yet!"

            "No choice.  Call Xavier, _fraulein_."  With that he teleported away.

            Exasperated, Annie hurried over to the phone.  "I need a new job."

            _So high, so high, high enough to die?___

_            I hope so._

_            No more blackness, no more cold, no more pain, only peace._

_            Death isn't nearly as scary as it once was._

_            Maybe cause I have nothing to live for…_

            Frantic, Kurt stopped teleporting outside to catch his breath.  He hurried over to Logan, who stood under a tree.  "Did you find her?"

            "Nah, Elf.  I thought she'd be here, but she ain't.  Ya sure she's gonna try and kill herself?"

            "_Ja_.  I don't know how, but I do.  Ve must hurry."

            "If ya say so, Elf."  Suddenly, Logan tensed, sniffing.  His eyes narrowed, then he abruptly cursed.  "She's on the roof."

            Glancing up, Kurt saw her, standing on the edge.  Grabbing Logan's arm, he quickly teleported up to her.

            _Time to die, say goodbye.___

_            Kurt…damn it, why are you coming?_

            Leslie turned her head, knowing he was there.  "Hello, Kurt.  Shouldn't you be in bed?"

            "_Ja_,_ liebchen.  So should you.  So vhy don't you come in with us?"  Kurt said softly, extending his hand.  Wolverine stood next to him, tensed, ready to jump at the slightest movement._

            "Cute, Kurt.  I'm crazy, not stupid."

            "Yer not crazy, kid.  We all freak out sometimes."

            "I know," she said calmly, not moving from the edge.  "I feel it all.  All the pain and betrayal and hate that you all feel, every moment of every day, all the lies—it's all in _me_.  It's eating away.  This is the best thing to do."

            "Suicide isn't the answer," Kurt said, slowly moving toward her.  "You said you vere Catholic, _liebchen_.  You know vhat that Church says about it."

            "Don't you _dare lecture me on the Church, Kurt.  We both know you're not in any position to do so."  As she spoke she moved closer to the edge.  "Is that all?  Cause I was doing something when you interrupted."_

            "Don't.  I von't let you."

            "Who are you to tell me what to do, Kurt Wagner?"

            "I don't know.  No one.  But for some reason, I can feel you now.  I feel your confusion, your guilt.  And I can't let you kill yourself.  Think of vhat vould happen to me, feeling your death."

            Leslie stared at him, shocked.  _I knew I felt you…how the hell do you feel **me?  "That's selfish."**_

            "_Ja_.  But if it takes a guilt trip to save your life, I'll do it."

            Leslie stared at Kurt's hand, still outstretched.  _It would be so easy…_She looked behind her at the ground.  _One step…  She turned back to him.  _More pain…more hurt…more fear and blackness and cold…_  Sighing, she placed her shaking hand in his.  "Only," she said quietly, "because I don't want to hurt you with me."_

            Kurt's face split into a grin, his canines flashing.  Logan visibly relaxed, then placed his arm on Kurt's shoulder.  With a flash of smoke and brimstone they were gone, leaving the roof once more empty.


	10. Do it again, Bobby, and the angst Warren...

A/N:  hmmph.  Only one person told me what they thought about the 10th Kingdom crossover.  Not good, people.  Grrrr.  Oh, well.  Thank you for all of you lovely reviews.  Make Miranda happy!

Disclaimer:

"What is it with you people? What kind of twisted upbringing did you have? Why can't you just say; 'Oh, that'll be 100 gold coins.' No! It's gotta be, 'Not unless you lay a magic egg, or count the hairs on the giant's ass!"

~Tony, The 10th Kingdom (Best movie EVER!)

            Leslie slept fitfully, tossing as she did so. Kurt watched, worried, knowing her nightmares were plaguing her.

            "Anything?" he asked.

            Hank sighed, checking the readings on one of the multitude of machines she was hooked up to.  "Neural dampeners aren't working, which, though exasperating, makes senses as she's not a telepath.  Drugs are keeping her unconscious, but obviously she's still emotionally aware.  I could try a Genoshan collar, but it would have to come off sooner or later, and we'd be right back where we are."  He growled softly in frustration, the readouts showing no change.   "And neither Jean, the Professor, nor Emma have been able to help her, with her natural blocks."  He turned then, looking Kurt in the eyes.  "But how are _you, my fellow blue buddy?"_

            Kurt scratched the bandage on his leg absentmindedly.  "Fine, _mein__ freund, just itchy."_

            "I meant emotionally.  You said you're sensing her emotions."

            "_Ja_.  The Professor believes that she formed an empathic bond vith me vhen I found her on the 'bird."  He shrugged.  "vorried, more than anything.  I can tell vhich feelings are mine and vhich are hers, so it doesn't bother me that much.  But she needs help, Hank.  She's overvhelmed."

            "I know," Hank wearily replied.  "I thought of calling Meggan, but her form of empathy is totally different from Leslie's, and I doubt she could be of help.  Unless she's magically better when she awakes, my recommendation will be to take her to a secluded location with few people.  It should be easier for her to adapt to her powers that way."

            Kurt looked at her.  "Who vould go vith her?  And vhere?"

            "I haven't thought of where.  As for the whos, I haven't a clue, though I believe a telepath will be necessary…who were you thinking of, Kurt?"

            He stared at her.  "Me."

            Hank blinked.  "What about your position as team leader?"

            "Warren can act in my absence.  After vhat ve've been through lately, though, I think ve all need a break.  Let one of the back-up teams take over."

            "Hmmm…well, with your unique connection with her, I can't say I think it's a poor idea.  Who else?"

            Kurt mulled over it.  "Bobby, probably, if he's willing.  He and she get along well.  Jean would be the best telepath—Leslie hates Emma."

            Hank chuckled.  "I think the whole school is now aware of that fact."

            Kurt grinned back at him.  "Vell, she _vas_ projecting strongly, _nein_?"  He quickly grew sober.  "Perhaps her friend Julia could accompany her?"

            "Well, I suppose the Professor would have to clear it with Julia's parents, but it sounds like an excellent idea to me.  She needs consistency now more than anything."

            Kurt stared at her, nodding absentmindedly.  "_Ja_.  And hope.  She needs a lot of hope…"

            _Damn this blackness!  I want the sweet blackness that comes when you're totally unaware, not **this**!  I wish Hank would do something about it…_

_            I can hear you, you know.  Laughing, I mean.  Are you planning on speaking to me, or do you just enjoy torturing me?_

_            …_

_            I guess it's the second one._

_            Fine, then, get your kicks while you can, bastard.  As soon as I figure out how to break the bond with Kurt, I'll be gone from here._

_            And you'll never find me again…_

Leslie breathed in the warm, dry, New Mexican air.  Warren had offered one of his multitude of houses to her for her recovery, for which she would be eternally grateful.  It had been built on this particular spot for the purpose of seclusion, meaning that the only emotions she sensed were those of the X-Men and Julia.  Which she could handle, for now.

            She smiled slightly, sensing that Jean and Scott—who had decided that a man and his wife should see each other for more than a day at a time—were actually talking.  Not about the issues they should be (like Scott's mental affair) but talking none the less.  They were emotionally in-tune for once, easing some of her worry.

            She slowly walked back toward the house, wondering if Bobby realized you can't jump out and startle someone who senses your presence.  

            She was suddenly pelted with snowballs.

            _Apparently not… "Do it again, Bobby, and the angst Warren went through after having his wings removed will feel like DisneyWorld after I'm done with you."_

            He nervously smiled.  "You know me, Lizard, I'd never do anything that dumb."

            "I don't know, you just called me 'Lizard.'  That doesn't say much for your sanity."  She grinned at him, enjoying his discomfort.  If they wanted to think this made everything all better, well, who was she to disillusion them?  They'd find out that they were wrong soon enough…

            "Torturing Bobby again, Leslie?  Without _me?" came Julia's indignant voice._

            "Oh, Jules, some things just can't wait."

            "What is this, pick on Iceman day?"

            "Yes," Julia and Leslie chorused, strait-faced.

            "Hardy-har," Bobby mumbled, heading in.

            Julia laughed.  "You do realize he'll just get us back. Don't you?"

            "Of course.  I need _something interesting around here, besides Jean trying to teach me blocking methods that don't work."_

            Julia smiled, but her eyes were serious.  "I was worried about you being alone.  Everything okay?"

            Leslie rolled her eyes, though no one could tell anymore when she did so—the lack of a visible pupil required people to look closely to tell what she was doing with them.  "I'm _fine, Julia!  God, I already told Kurt I wouldn't try and kill myself!  Stop worrying!"_

            "I can't, okay?" she snapped back.  "You were gonna jump, Leslie!  I was on the ground and saw you!  And I'm not going to let you kill yourself over something as stupid as your power manifesting!"

            Leslie froze, then glared at her, and this time it was easy to read her eyes and see the fury contained within.  "Don't think you know me, Julia," she said coldly, her voice low.  "You don't.  You only got a taste of what I was feeling at the Institute.  If I were to let you feel it all, you'd break down, hysterical.  So don't go there.  Okay?"  With that, she headed out into the desert, ignoring Julia's calls and slipping into the growing dark.


	11. You lied, didn't you?

A/N: yep, I'm back!  Here's some answer to questions:

Christy S.:  Oh, yes, Leslie most definitely will bring some more secrets to life, especially when Scott pisses her off…And Rogue will be back, soon, with Gambit, and Storm will eventually make an appearance.

Hoodoo:  Nope, Leslie's eyes haven't totally adapted yet. (What, actually be _nice to my fictives?  _Please_!)  They have adjusted somewhat, however, and chapter 10 took place when dusk had almost moved to night._

…Hmm, think that's it.  Oh, wait, someone who I can't remember asked if it was true if Leslie could never go home. ::gives reviewer reproachful look::   Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?  But if you remember what Xavier said, there are three problems with getting her home, the how, her powers, and the time difference.  He said he didn't know _how_ to do it, not that it _couldn't_ be done.  So, to answer your question…wait and see! ;-) 

Disclaimer:

_Tony:_ Look at him, I've killed him.  
_Wolf:_ It was a simple gold-finger mistake Tony, it was almost predictable. I wouldn't worry about him too much. Things here have a way of bouncing back.  
_Tony:_ Really? You're not just saying that?  
_Wolf:_ I'm afraid I am just saying that. Watch this simple Prince Alertness Test; _(picks up a stick)_ Come on Prince, come on, _(throws stick)_ Fetch!   
_Tony:_ That's not funny!  
_Wolf:_ It'll get funnier if we keep on doing it.

~The 10th Kingdom

            Julia burst into the house, frantic.  "JEEEEAAAAN!!  KUUUUURRRT!  SOMEONE?!"

            Kurt quickly teleported next to her.  "Vhat is it, Julia?"

            She gasped, trying to catch her breath.  "Leslie…gone…desert…"

            Kurt quickly cursed in German then 'ported outside.  His yellow eyes let him see through the night and pick up Leslie's footprints that the desert had not yet swallowed.  He followed them as be reached out to Leslie, sending his emotions best he could.

            ~Worry, search, fear~

            His response was the emotional equivalent of a glare.  ~Anger, longing, desire to be alone~

            ~Smile.  Stubborn, coming~

            ~Disgust~  He was fairly certain she was rolling her eyes.

            He hurried past the scenery, identical to itself.  Sooner than he had thought he would, he saw her form in the night.  He stood next to her briefly before sitting.

            "Thought I told you I wanted to be alone."

            He smiled at that.  "You did."

            "Hmph.  Guess you don't listen very well, do ya?"  Her voice and emotions were filled with bitterness.

            He sat in silence for a moment, just studying her feelings.  Anger, lots of it, was present.  And Hate, of course, the two go hand-in-hand.  Loneliness.  And Something Else, something that seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite name.

            Leslie glared at him.  "Stop it.  I can tell when you're trying to read me.  Don't."

            "Sorry," he said absentmindedly, still trying to identify the last feeling.  He suddenly recognized it.  Stiffening, he stood.  "You lied, didn't you?"

            "…about what?"

            Kurt glared at her, yellow eyes flashing.  "Don't pretend you don't know.  Vhen you said you veren't scared of me."

            "Oh."  Leslie continued staring at the stars.  "Yeah.  I did."

            Furious, Kurt hauled her to her feet, forcing her to look at him.  "Vhy?  Vhy did you lie, vhy are you still scared?"

            She shook his arm off.  "Gee, Kurt, could it be the fact that people _aren't supposed to look like you_?  Could it be that you remind me of childhood fears?  Or the fact that when I see you I remember that I don't belong here, that this isn't my home?  Or could it be the fact that you're filled with rage and pain to the point I want to vomit?  Oh, just choose one!  Any one!"  

            Kurt fell to the ground in pain, her anger washing over him, drowning him.  _Mein_ Gott…she'll kill me…_Suddenly, it was gone.  "I'm sorry, Kurt, so sorry," he heard.  Opening his eyes, which he'd squeezed shut, trying to block it all out, he looked up to see Leslie bending over him, tears streaming down her face.  "Are you okay?" she whispered._

            "_Ja_, but vhat…" his voice sounded weak to even his own ears.

            Relief spread through the link, from her to him, and with it came guilt and  sorrow.  "I blocked the link," she said softly, helping him up.  "I couldn't keep it shut, though.  I was afraid…" she trailed off, tears shining like stars in her black eyes.  "Oh, Kurt, I almost…"

            "Shhh, _liebling_.  Shhh."  He held her, letting her cry, trying to comfort her through the link.  "It's hard, I know.  I know."  And he did know, knew her struggles and pain and fears.

            Eventually her tears subsided.  She pulled slowly away, blushing.

            Kurt studied her worriedly.  She looked exhausted, her normally pale skin almost albino white under the moon, though part of it came from the contrast between it and her eyes, under which hung deep bags.

            "I'm sorry, Kurt," she said softly, turning away.  "I'm sorry I'm scared of you."

            Hurt still, but now also understanding, Kurt gently took her hand in his.  She looked at him, startled.  "Then, Leslie, I must vork to make you not scared," he said with a smile.  

            Leslie returned it with one of her own.  She knew he was hurt, of course, but he was so kind.  She swore inwardly that she would hurt the Pontiff for what he'd done to him.  "Thank you," she said softly.

            Simply nodding, Kurt guided her back to the house.

            _I owe Kurt for his kindness.  I know it hurts him to feel me, yet he focuses on how **I** feel.  He is such a gentle soul…_

_            I think that's what I sense, in part—people's souls.  I know that I see something beyond emotions, something that's the essence of people._

_            Take Jean's, for instance.  She's all fire, like the phoenix whose name she bears.  She loves and hates with the same intensity, throwing all of herself into everything she does.  _

_            Scott is in many ways the wind, sometimes gently blowing like a child blows a dandelion, sometimes with the force of a hurricane.  He's torn in all directions now, not knowing what to do, where to go, whether to confide in Jean or go to Emma.  I hope he decides before he hurts himself._

_            Julia's a puppy.  Dear Lord, she'll kill me if she hears me say that, but it's true!  Kind and loving, worried for others, but if you anger her she'll bite._

_            Bobby…He would scare me, had I not seen other things scarier than he.  He's not a puppy, but a wolf cub.  He may act silly, but there's something in him that's…well, cold, forgive the pun.  Something in him that's like __Logan__, of all people.__  A killer, God help him._

_            And Kurt…when I said that his emotions scared me, I meant it.  His form **discomforts** me, that's all.  But Kurt…his soul's like an angel, ridiculous and cliché as it may sound.  But darkness is trying to overtake it, darkness and anger and fear, swallowing him like the blackness is me._

_            And it **is swallowing me, each night a little more.  Each day I'm a little less me, a little more of a stranger.  I wish…I wish that I could just be Leslie again, the Leslie I was.  Now…I don't know who I am…**_

_            I wonder…would my parents recognize me now, even if I could go home?_

Jean was extremely exasperated, but forced a smile.  "Come on, Leslie, try again.  You've done it before."

            Leslie glared at her.  "In case you haven't noticed, I did it for about five seconds, and I've been trying all bloody morning!"

            Jean rolled her eyes, then paused, contemplating.  They'd spent over an hour already trying to get Leslie to block others' emotions, with (extremely) limited success.  She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she'd been trying to avoid.  "Leslie…we can keep working if you want…"

            Leslie sensed her unhappiness and desire to say more.  "But?"

            Jean looked her in the eye.  "Leslie, without accessing your mind, I really can't help you anymore than I have.  I _think_, though I could be wrong, that the best thing you can do is learn to deal with, and separate, the emotions."

            Leslie sat in silence.  She felt like she should be stunned, but, truly, she wasn't.  Instinctively, on some level she'd tried to ignore, she'd known that she could never completely block the emotions.

            Oh, they'd made some progress in the week they'd been there, helped Leslie to be able to begin to ignore them, but that was it.  She knew Jean had done all she could.  "You're right," she said softly, returning Jean's gaze.  "There's no more you can do.  But…I thank you, Jean, for what you have done."  With that, she left the room.

            Jean's heart broke to sense the sorrow in Leslie.  _And that_, Jean thought ruefully, stretching her arms, _is the difference between us._  Jean only sensed what others felt.  Leslie _experienced it, felt it as strongly as if the emotions were her own._

            Jean made her way to the kitchen, intent on a glass of lemonade.  She filled one then curled up on the couch, switching on the TV as she did so.  She grimaced and changed the channel to CNN when she saw that the movie of the week was a love story.  Unbidden, her thoughts drifted toward her husband.

            Scott had left two days after arriving, called back to the Institute for one emergency or another, as distant as he had been when they'd first come to New Mexico.  The first day, she'd thought that they were starting to reconnect.  They'd talked, really talked, for the first time in months.  And the sex…well, it wasn't as if she'd had much lately to compare it to, but it had been _good_.

            But he was still keeping something from her, still distant.  And, she admitted, if she was being honest, she was keeping things from him, too.  She'd changed since Apocalypse, and so had he.  That was the ugly truth.  And this new Scott didn't know how to interact with the new Jean.  And vice versa.

            Jean wiped away a lone tear, hoping Leslie hadn't felt her, for Leslie's sake as well as her own.  She determinedly took a sip of her drink and channel surfed until finally settling down and watching a special on the History Channel.  

            Kurt was in his room changing into his swimsuit when his door suddenly flung open.  "AHHHH!" he yelled, grateful his trunks were already up, though it had been close.

            "Scream later, hide me!"  Leslie yelped, diving under his bed, but not before Kurt noticed what she was wearing.

            Or rather, _not_ wearing.

            She wore a swimsuit.  A very tiny swimsuit.  A very tiny, _wet_ swimsuit. And, while Kurt had certainly seen women in tiny swimsuits before, most of them weren't soaking wet _and_ in his bedroom.  Even fewer were in his bedroom while he was in the process of changing.

            _Bad thoughts bad thoughts… Kurt shuddered, trying to get the images out of his mind, reminding himself that not only was he a priest, but also that the person those thoughts were about was only 17.  As important as those points were, they were also ineffective._

            Julia and Bobby chose that moment to burst through the already-battered door, causing it to hang crookedly on one hinge.  "Where is she, Kurt?" Bobby demanded.  It was then that Kurt noticed the fact that Bobby had his arms iced up.  Also the fact that Julia carried a Super Soaker big enough to rival one of Cable's guns.  A gun which was pointed at him.

            Julia grinned menacingly. (Which she had learned to do in Logan's Intimidating Your Enemy 101 class.  Well, not really, but if there _were_ such a class, Logan would teach it.)  "Tell us, and we'll let you go."

            ~Threatening.  Glare.  Pleading.~

            Now, Kurt considered briefly the possible options.  Actually, he merely considered the fact that, while he was going to get wet soon anyway, he really didn't want to be hit in the face with a snowball.  "Under the bed."

            "TRAITOR!" Leslie yelled, rolling out.  She was immediately bombarded with snow and water.  Shrieking, she ducked behind the laughing Kurt, grabbing his arms to prevent him from teleporting away without her.

            Kurt immediately stopped laughing and tried to move, but it was too late.  He had become a casualty.

            Howling with victory, Bobby and Julia ran out of the room.  Leslie wiped snow out of her eyes, then burst into giggles, seeing the drenched Kurt.  His fur hung down all over his body, his hair hung in his face, and his tail was drooping.

            Kurt growled at her, but it only made her laugh all the harder.  An evil gleam came into his eye, and the sudden sense of satisfaction that came through there link made Leslie stop laughing.  "Now, Kurt," she said nervously, trying to figure out a way to get to the door, "don't do anything stupid…"

            He grinned.  "I'm not going to, _liebling."  With that he pounced, using both his hands and his tail to tickle her ribs._

            Leslie squirmed, shrieking with laughter.  "HAHAHA…okay…HEHEHE…I give!"

            Kurt laughed at her.  "Doesn't vork that vay!"  He continued tickling her until the fatigue in his limbs forced him to stop.

            Panting, Leslie looked up at him from her place on the floor.  He was propped up over her on his arms, his face close to hers, his tail touching her cheek.  Her breathing slowed as she stared at him through her sunglasses, suddenly intensely aware of both his and her lack of clothing.  Through the link she felt his attraction to her, his desire, and, beneath that, his fear of what might happen.  She knew also that he felt the same things from her.  She longed to just let it happen, to kiss him…_But he's a priest_, the good Catholic girl in her reminded her.  And that was that.

            She coughed, then slowly shifted out from under him.  Quickly, he stood, turning his head away, but putting out a hand to help her up.  Afraid of what might happen if she even just touched him, she ignored it, rising by herself.

            Leslie stared at him, uncertain of what to say.  "Kurt…" she started to whisper, but stopped, not knowing what to say after that.  Instead, she ran from his room as quickly as she could and to her bedroom, where she quickly entered the shower, setting the water as cold as it would go.

            In his room, Kurt threw himself onto his bed and screamed with frustration into his pillow.                      


	12. Snarl

A/N:  I thought I should let you all know, there's an upcoming chapter that's a bit gruesome.  This is a PG-13 fic, not R, but it _means_ PG-13.  That's it.

Disclaimer: 
    
    Moira: "Brian? Britanic? Wee Dougie said you've been
    
    in here f'r the last… two… days… OCH!! Ma puir wee hovercraft.
    
    What did ye do tae ma puir wee hovercraft?? Brian Braddock, when I get ma
    
    hands on you, it'll be just as well I'm a doctor…"
    
    Brian: "So, umm… Do you like it?"
    
    Moira: "It's ma own fault! I let an Englishman on ma island! ME!!"
    
    Brian: "I just thought we could use a faster transport so I adapted some Shi'ar 
    
    tech-- Hank had some stuff flown in from Westchester-- and it was good therapy, 
    
    going back to physics. Engineering. That was my specialty, you know. 
    
    Moira: I want some therapy wi' yuir head an ma boot. I loved ma wee hovercraft! It 
    
    was cute! Not some big thrusting macho speed demon thing…
    
    Brian: And once it's had a proving flight, I can start working on the medical 
    
    version. 
    
    Moira: Medical?
    
    Brian: A hypersonic medical installation, Moira, reaching any situation in the 
    
    world in hours.
    
    Moira: You know, you're a very handsome young man. A veritable genius, too. I've 
    
    always admired the English.   
    
    ~Excalibur #86  

            Leslie sat on her bed, staring out the window.  Night had once again fallen, and her companions were all asleep.  Moving silently, Leslie once again left the house and went into the desert.  The sand has given up its heat of the day and was cool under her bare feet.  

            She stopped when she came to a good-sized rock.  Leslie sat on it and closed her eyes, trying to mediate like Jean had taught her.  Minutes passed, and it became increasingly obvious that it wasn't going to happen.  

            Sighing, Leslie opened her eyes.  Resting her head on her knees, she stared at the stars, thinking about the day.  And, more importantly, Kurt.

            He terrified her.  But also, on some level, he attracted her.  She couldn't deny that when she'd lain beneath him…well, she'd wanted to do things that you weren't supposed to do with a priest.  She blushed, thinking of it now.  Hell, she wasn't even sure you were supposed to do some of those things if you were _married!_

            She'd felt him, too, felt the same emotions from him.  _But_, she wondered, _did I **make him feel that?**_  She already knew she could unconsciously use her power.

            Letting her mind drift away, she stretched her senses back towards the house.  Her psyche drifted towards Kurt's.  She gently caressed it before scanning it.  Nightmares, again.  She winced, knowing the emotional turmoil he was in didn't help prevent them.

            Leslie was about to retreat back into herself, but paused.  She could take away his feelings for her.  It certainly would make life easier for him, and he's already been through so much because of her…_I shouldn't…But she only wanted to help him…_

            Determined, she reached into him, looking for level where his feelings for her lay.  Hurt was there, a fact which made her ashamed.  Friendship, yes…Amusement?  _What on earth…?  Shaking the distraction away, she delved deeper._

            There.  Attraction, and the beginning of something that one day could be Love.  She tentatively "grabbed" it, determined to tear it away.  She tensed…

            …and then, sighing, let go and drifted back to her body.

            Back on the rock, Leslie glared at the moon, disgusted with herself.  _I should have done it for him…_But she couldn't, for the simple, selfish reason that she _wanted_ him to feel that way towards her.  

            Groaning, Leslie stood up, shaking the sand off of her nightgown.  She returned to the house.  Climbing into bed, she surrendered herself to sleep, and the nightmares she knew would come.

            _That night, for the first time since coming here, the blackness stayed away.  Instead, an older nightmare took its place, one I'd had for two years, one I had known I would have that night.  Horrified, I tried to leave, to enter Kurt's dream, Julia's, anyone's…_

_            But fear confused me.  I couldn't remember how._

_            So I stayed and suffered, constantly working on keeping my fear away from the link and Kurt.  And I succeeded…_

_            But I was still in Hell._

Leslie padded into the kitchen, a strange sight in her Victorian nightgown, bunny slippers, and sunglasses.  

            "Morning!" Julia cheerful called from the adjoining den where she was watching MTV.

            "Snarl," Leslie replied, opening the refrigerator and getting the necessary mixings for an Acid Bath. (A/N: an Acid Bath is a drink that is half Coke, half O.J.  It is called that because of the damage it does to your stomach lining.  It is excellent, however, for waking you up when you've spent the whole night studying for a chemistry final that you have to ace.)

            Julia laughed.  "'Snarl?'"

            "Yes," Leslie said, taking a long sip of her drink.  "Snarl.  I'm too tired to actually try and do so."

            Julia looked at her friend.  "What time did you get to sleep?"

            "It wasn't the sleeping that was the problem.  It was the nightmares."

            Julia waited, but, as Leslie didn't seem to be about to elaborate, shrugged and went back to her show.  "By the way, Jean got a call from Xavier.  Apparently things are crazy back there."

            Leslie snorted as she rummaged through the cabinets.  "What else is new?" she asked as she pulled out a box of granola.

            "You're telling me.  Anyway, he needs her back there, which means we're leaving tomorrow."

            "Was wondering how long we'd get to stay," Leslie mused as she munched.  "It's not like we're making any progress with my powers, anyway."

            Julia shot her a sympathetic look.  "I'm sorry, Les."

            Leslie waived her apology away.  "Not your fault.  'Sides, it could be worse.  Not sure how, but it could be."

            "That's what I love about you, Leslie, always the optimist."

            "The voices in my head thank you," Leslie replied with a grin, washing her bowl and putting it away.  __

"So…Jean's packing and Kurt and Bobby drove into town…"

            Leslie raised an eyebrow.  "Uh-huh.  And?"

            "AND, I was thinking, this would be a good time to tell me about those comics of yours…" Julia suggested, a wicked grin on her face.

            Leslie glared at her, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I only tell _nice people about my comics.  Not _evil_ people who spray me with water!"_

            Julia gave her her best puppy face.  "Aw, Les, come on!  You know I was just kidding!  Bobby _forced_ me to!"  
  


            Leslie looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "Forced you, huh?"

            Julia nodded.  "Uh-huh."

            "Well, that wasn't very nice, was it?  I suppose we'll have to punish him for that, won't we?" Leslie replied, a grin spreading over her face that would have rivaled Sabertooth's best one.

            Julia smiled back at her.  "Comics now, revenge later.  So, come on!  Tell me!"

            Laughing, Leslie plopped onto the couch next to her.  "Can't I even get dressed?"

            Julia vigorously shook her head.

            Leslie rolled her eyes at her.  "Alright, O-Impatient-One.  What do you want to know?"

            Julia shrugged.  "I don't know!  Anything!"

            Leslie rested her head on one hand, thinking.  "Hmmm…well…"

            "Come on, Kurt, can't we go back?"

            Kurt rolled his eyes under his image inducer.  "Bobby, your name is _Iceman.  How on earth did you manage to not finish your ice cream before it melted?"_

            Bobby batted his eyes at Kurt, grinning.  "Just natural talent, I guess.  Come on, you're not nearly as much of a grouch as you were before we went.  Just think, we go back again, you might actually start to be pleasant!"

            Kurt glared at him as he unlocked the front door, angry that Bobby had reminded him about last night, however indirectly.  "No, Bobby."  _Vhat__ vere you thinking?_he asked himself, tossing the keys on the end table.  _Now she'll just think that you're some sort of sick pervert…vhich you obviously are!_

            Kurt's mental berating of himself was interrupted by peals of laughter.  He glanced at Bobby, who sent an equally quizzical glance back at him.  "Vhat on earth…?" he muttered as the two of them followed the laughter into the living room.  They stopped short at the doorway.

            Leslie and Julia were lying on the floor, both hysterical.  Luckily for her, Leslie had taken the time to get dressed, and now wore a tank top and shorts, similar to what Julia wore.  

            Kurt stared, wondering how the girl who had been depressed for a week was now radiating amusement and happiness.

            Bobby looked at him calmly.  "They're drunk.  I told you to lock up the alcohol."

            Leslie looked at him indignantly, quickly calming, while Julia still lay laughing.  "We are _not drunk," she declared.  "We're just having a good time."_

            Julia sat up, apparently calming, but when she saw Kurt she burst into giggles all over again.  "BAMFS!" she yelled, falling back over.  "Horny Bamfs!"

            Blushing, Kurt remembered a story Kitty had once told.  "Leslie, you didn't…"

            She grinned at him.  "I did."

            Kurt sighed, then looked at Bobby.  "Get them!"

            Still laughing, the girls ran into Julia's room and locked the door.  Bobby grinned at Kurt.  "Bamfs, huh?"

            Kurt glared back at him.  "Shut up."

            Whistling, Bobby hurried to his room.  There was a crash and a splash, then Bobby was heard screaming, "_LESLIE!!!"_

Kurt did the smart thing and went to find where Jean was hiding.


	13. Something was Wrong

A/N:  Anyone else see the irony in Emma assigning Jane Austen's _Lady Susan?_

Disclaimer:

Nightcrawler: "Peter, mein freund --"  
Colossus: "Da?"  
Nightcrawler: "Your foot."  
Colossus: "Da?"  
Nightcrawler: "Remove it from my spleen."  
Uncanny X-Men #367

            Leslie sat sweating in her room, pretending to read _Lady Susan.  She glanced longingly at the clock, and, seeing it was only 6:30, willed it to move forward.  She'd been back at Xavier's for three days only, but had already realized her only time of relief came when everyone else was asleep.  She still picked up their emotions, but it was easier to block out._

            Groaning as a particularly strong wave of angst hit her, Leslie threw the book across the room.  "Fuck it, I can't deal with this tonight," she muttered, unnoticed tears running down her face as she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket.  She stormed down the hall, ignoring everyone in her path.

            Bursting outside into the fresh air, she briskly walked down one of the many garden paths.  Spring had not yet come to New York, making the dead flower beds an excellent place to go if one wanted to be alone.  Depressing and morbid, but a good place to be alone.

            Leslie sat on one of the cold stone benches, hugging her arms around herself in an attempt to warm up.  Squinting, she cautiously lowered her glasses and was relieved when her eyes didn't stab with pain.  She allowed herself a slight smile as she put the in her pocket.  She ruefully rubbed the bridge of her nose—every pair she'd found pinched.

            She thought about Kurt.  The day they'd come back from New Mexico he and Bobby had left with the away team on some mission or other.  His being so far away felt odd, as if something was missing.  Leslie told herself it was just the stress put on the link, but part of her wondered if it was something else.  Something she'd been trying not to think about.

            She didn't know how she felt any more—hell, she barely knew which emotions were hers and which were other people's!  She was pretty sure she was still scared of Kurt…but he had let her cry…Leslie wished she had something to just hit herself over the head with.  It would be preferable to just sitting here, going over the same things again and again, Kurt and her powers and missing her family.  _Anything would be preferable._

            _Be careful what you wish for, she thought ironically as she heard voices.  She tried to follow them, freezing when she recognized one as Quentin's._

            _Curiosity killed the cat…but, then again, I'm not Kitty!  She tried to move as quietly as possible, creeping along.  She stopped about five yards from them, only a bush hiding her.  She tried to quiet her breathing as she quickly scanned them.  Their emotions were erratic, jumping all over the place, but the prevalent one was a sense of power.  __Kick… Leslie mentally groaned._

            "Another flatscan dead!" Quentin crowed, a crazy grin on his face.  "They're finally starting to get that we're serious.  The whole fuckin' town's scared of us now!"

            Leslie thought she was going to be sick.  _They killed someone…Before, it was just a page in a comic book.  Before, it was make-believe._

            Now, it was horribly, undeniably real.  And Leslie realized, her stomach twisting, that it was as much her fault as theirs.  She'd _known_ they were killers.   Shaking, she stood up and walked over to them.

            Redneck quickly grabbed her.  "Don't move, or you'll see why they say I have 'magic' hands."

            Fury building in her, she couldn't even reply.

            Quentin sauntered over, Tattoo hanging on him, her hands roaming his body.  "Well, looky here, an eavesdropper."

            "You _killed_ someone!" Leslie managed to choke out, still having difficulty wrapping her mind around the idea.

            Quentin grinned at her.  "Isn't it grand?"

            She struggled against Redneck's grip, but was unable to break free.  "How dare you?" she whispered, tears of fury running down her cheeks.  "What gives you the right?"

            Quentin leaned in, putting his face close to hers.  "Why, Kick does," he said simply, the same insane grin on his face.  He pulled away, walking back over to Tattoo.  "Oh, and don't feel bad about not saying anything, Leslie.  I made sure you wouldn't."

            Her head snapped up. "What?!"

            His grin was getting really annoying.  "Oh, the first night you were here I set up blocks to make sure you wouldn't tell anyone.  Your mind may be blocked to telepaths, but in dreams your fair game.  And let me say, it was easy to do it with you distracted by your nightmare."

            She glared at him.  She hadn't thought she could become any angrier than she already was.  She had been wrong.  "Are you telling me," she said icily, "that _you're_ responsible for my dreams?"

            "Sadly, no.  That, my dear, comes from your own twisted mind.  And what dreams they are!  May I suggest a good psychologist?"

            "May I suggest you stop acting like you're a villain in a bad B-movie?"

            He glared at her.  "Redneck, kill her."

            Glob turned to him, eyes panicked.  "But, Quentin, she's a mutant too!"

            Redneck froze, uncertain, and Radian and Tattoo just watched.

            Quentin glared at him.  "What do you suggest, Glob, that we let her go and tell Xavier?  We can't let her live!"

            Leslie felt Redneck agreeing with Quentin.  Realizing he was actually going to kill her, she instinctively and fearfully reached out with her powers.

            Almost instantaneously, Redneck released his grip on her and collapsed screaming.  Tattoo, Radian, and Glob followed a moment later.

            Quentin stared, horrified, at Leslie, who stood there as if nothing had happened.  The sounds of his friends screams twisted his gut.  "What the hell did you do, Bitch?!"

            Leslie glared at him.  "Pain's an emotion like any other.  Right now, I've stimulated there pain centers as much as I could."

            Quentin nervously backed away from her, trying to find an escape.  "Wh-what are you gonna do?"

            Leslie walked over to him, her face stony.  Waves of pain crashed over her as she felt what she had inflicted, but she ignored them, determined not to stop.  In the back of her mind she wondered that she felt no remorse for doing what she had, only fury.  

            "I told you not to mess with me, Quentin," she said softly, black eyes cold.  To his terror, she grabbed his head, and then ripped into his soul.

            Warren walked blearily into the cafeteria.  They'd returned late from the mission last night, and he'd immediately crashed.  He needed coffee.  Coffee was good.

            Once that objective had been achieved, he looked around the cafeteria and frowned.  Normally, it was loud, full of obnoxious sound, and generally the type of place he like to avoid.  Today, though, it was full of hushed whispers only.

            Something was Wrong.

            Fully awake now, and considering the possibility that the entire skull had been replaced by Skrulls, (Lord knew weirder things had happened) Warren set off to find someone who knew what was going on.

            He found that person in Jean.

            "Jeannie, what the hell's wrong?"

            She looked at him, her face harried.  "Oh, God, Warren, it's nuts!  A group of hysterical students woke the professor up last night and confessed to several killings, all of humans!"

            Angel just stared at her.  "What?!"

            "I know!  They were all in a tears, panicking, and insisting that we take them to jail!  And one of our best students, Quentin Quire, was one of them!"

            "And they just _confessed_?"

            "Yes!  Oh, Lord, I'm sorry, Warren, but I have calls to make."  With that, Jean hurried off.

            Warren stared after her.  "This place has just gotten even stranger…"

            _Kurt's back.  He asked me if anything was wrong.  I told him no._

_            I wonder if he knew I was lying._

_            It will take some serious therapy before any of the Omega Gang recover.  Killers can't deal with guilt, apparently.  At least, not **my** kind of guilt._

_            I still can't believe how easy it was to use my power.  It was like looking at a shelf and picking out the thing you wanted—I picked out the feeling I needed, and they felt it!   And damn, it hurt me as much as them, but at the same time I felt like a God.  It was a **very** good feeling.  I can see why Frost likes to use her powers as much as possible._

_            It was also addictive, in a way I don't think even the Kick is. I want to do it again, now!   I never realized before now how careful I really have to be.  I hate it.  I want that feeling of being in control again…_

_            I think Jean may suspect that I did something.  She called me to her office today and asked if there was anything I needed to tell her.  And I **know** Emma suspects.  She grinned at me when I went into English today.  Didn't make a single smart remark, either._

_            I wonder if I should be concerned about that…_

Next time:  Angels and Wolverines and Demons, Oh My!


	14. I win

A/N:  ::glares at screen:: I _should_ be translating _Le Fantôme de L'Opéra.  Should is the keyword, cause I sure as hell ain't touching it write now!  I don't care anymore about Christine, or Raoul, or Erik.  (In English, though, it's an excellent book.  Not in French.  I hate French right now.)  Grrr…Oh, well, hope your day was better than mine.  Enjoy.  Oh, and anyone notice something very odd about Leslie's powers?  If you do, than you've picked up on something _very_ important to the story._

Disclaimer:

"Yon coffee machine is misbehaving again, Shipmaster."  
"Well, just *hit* it or something."  
"Yon coffee machine has spat on my uniform. I may *kill* yon coffee machine." 

-- Raza and Corsair, unknown issue, unknown title

            Leslie stood impatiently against the wall, waiting for class to start.  She hated combat training with a passion.  She wasn't physical is any way, shape, or form of the word.  She hated running, hated exercising, and _hated_ fighting.  

            _Of course, she admitted, __things have changed a bit.  In this new world she lived in, every mutant needed to know how to fight.  That, and to have a will.  Still, the idea of the little girl who cried at _Bambi_ learning how to incapacitate someone brought a smile to her face._

            She looked up as she felt the strange of loyalty and rage that was Wolverine approach.  A moment later he entered the room, the feral grin on his face and in his spirit warning her that something was up.  _Oh, shit…Leslie sensed two other men coming.  Recognizing their essences, she suddenly realized she should have stayed in bed.  Whatever was coming, it couldn't be good._

            "Get yer asses over here," Logan called to his class as he stood in the center of the room.  Reluctantly, Leslie obeyed, wrinkling her nose at the stench of his cigar, which he seemed to have no intent of putting out.

            He puffed away for a moment before continuing.  "You all've been lazy these last few classes.  'S'obvious that most of ya haven't been practicing.  So…" his grin, if possible, widened.  "…today yer gonna have some motivation."

            The door burst opened.  While the rest of her class turned towards the door, Leslie said a prayer that she wouldn't die.  She sadly turned toward the door as well, having the very bad feeling that No One up there was listening right now.  _Probably too busy laughing at my sorry excuse for a life…_

Angel and Cyclops, dressed in their uniforms, had entered and now stood with Logan.  "So, kiddies, today we see if ya can use anything I've been trying to drill into yer thick skulls this year."

            Leslie had a very healthy sense of self-preservation.  That sense was currently telling her to run like a bat outta Hell.  Leslie, very calmly, pointed out to it the fact that Wolverine would just find her wherever she went.  It asked her if she want to die now or later.

            Compromising, Leslie raised her hand.

            Logan looked at her.  "Yeah?"

            "Um…I haven't _been_ here all year…"

            He grinned at her.  "Then this will be an experience fer ya, won't it?"

            "Right.  That's what I thought," she sighed, lowering her hand.

            To her surprise, Logan appeared to be considering her words.  "Okay, kid, ya can use yer powers, but not offensively."

            _Oh, great, and that will help me **how?  Wisely, though, Leslie kept that thought to herself.**_

            Logan rubbed his hands together.  _He is enjoying this waaaay too much.  Sadistic man.  "Okay, Angel, yer with Angel, Tray, with Cyclops, and Ken, with me."_

            Leslie stiffened at the sudden sense of panic overwhelming all three of them.  And, incidentally, her.

            "Rest of ya, watch.  Maybe one of ya will actually _learn_ something."

            Leslie sat cross-legged, wondering if she should leave anything in her will to Julia, or just let the Professor take it all back.  Not a single student had won a fight, and she was sure she'd have to go soon.

            Morosely, she watched Warren and Sammy—or Squiddy, as she secretly thought of him.  They were circling each other warily, looking for an opening.

            ~Go left, open, got him~

            Leslie blinked as a strange feeling washed over her-not an emotion she was used to, but something new, a sense of doing, of decision.  To her amazement, Warren dove to his left, grabbing Sammy's ankle and pulling it with him, causing Sammy to fall on his face.

            Suddenly, Leslie felt much better about the upcoming match.

            _What was I thinking?!_

            Leslie had already spent fifteen minutes sparring with Scott Summers and, while he hadn't tagged her yet, neither had she tagged him.  Plus, she was getting tired, while he seemed to just be catching his second wind.  She wondered how much longer she could keep this up.  Most of the other students had already lost their fights and left, after being assigned hideous amounts of exercises to do.

            _Stupid __Logan__.  I could end this now, if not for him.  Silently groaning, she rolled to the side, avoiding a well-aimed kick.  "That the best you can do?" she said brightly, forcing a taunting smile as she responded with a kick of her own.  Rule #1: when people get mad, they're sloppy._

            Apparently, though, Scott had heard of that rule as well.  He merely smiled back at her while avoiding her attack.  "No.  It isn't."

            _As Remy would say, **merde**!  Scott, it seemed, was as fed up with this as she was.  He came at her, throwing several blows in rapid succession, and if not for her powers she would be in La-la Land.  _This is **not** good.__

            That last thought was her mistake.  In that second she spared to think it, she was distracted.  Scott chose that moment to tackle her, grabbing her right arm in his own and twisting it behind her back while choking her with his left arm.  "Sloppy, Leslie."

            Softly, so not even Logan could hear her, Leslie hissed back at him, "At least _I'm_ not having an affair!"

            It was an irrelevant comment.  Had nothing to do with what was going on.  But it did exactly what Leslie intended it to.

            Scott let out a quiet gasp and slightly loosened his grip.  That was all Leslie needed.  Now that she had leverage room, she shifted her weight onto her left foot, bringing her right one sharply up behind her into his stomach.  He bent forward in pain, and Leslie used his momentum to flip him over her shoulder.  He lay on the ground, gasping.

            Leslie bent down slightly, hands on her knees.  "I win."

            Her only response was a groan of pain.

            _Okay, so it was a fluke.  Could I do it again?  Hell, no!  That man, all things aside, is one damn good fighter.  But I still enjoy knowing that I beat Cyclops.  And I **really enjoyed the expression on his face when he was lying on the ground.  From the laughter, I gather Warren and Logan did, too.**_

_            Besides, he should suffer **somewhat for cheating on his wife.**_

_            Right?_

            "Come _on, Les, you've gotta meet some other people!" Julia declared, dragging her friend down the hall._

            Leslie resisted.  "Julia.  I don't _want_ to meet anyone else.  More people equals more emotions equals bigger headache for me.  No.  Are you even listening?"

            "Nope!" Julia declared cheerfully.  "If you don't come, I'll turn all of your books into bananas."

            Leslie stared at her.  "You can't."

            "Wanna bet?"

            Sighing, Leslie reluctantly let Julia pull her along.  "That was just cruel.  There are some things you just shouldn't threaten."

            "You read too much anyway."

            Leslie sniffed.  "Philistine."

            Rolling her eyes, Julia laughed. "Look at it this way, you can brag about beating Cyclops.  How'd you do it, anyway?  No offense, but when it comes to fighting, you suck."

            "How on earth could I take offense at that?" Leslie asked dryly.  "As for how I did it—trade secret."

            "What-_ever."  Julia opened the door to one of the rec rooms.  "Go!  Socialize!"_

            Leslie looked at her.  "You've _got to be kidding."  Seeing the look on Julia's face and sensing that she was about to blow, Leslie sighed and walked in.  _

            "Hey, Tray, come here!" Julia shouted.  Leslie recognized the tall blond boy from training and calculus.  She blushed as she caught a trace of appreciation from him as he looked her up and down.  _You're not so bad yourself…_Wisely, though, she kept that comment to herself.

            "Tray, meet the one-and-only Leslie Corring, dimension hopper extraordinaire!  Les, Tray Stevens, our resident Superman!"

            Tray rolled his eyes.  "Thanks, Julia.  Nice to meet you, Leslie."  He extended his hand, which Leslie took.

            "Likewise."

            "Well, isn't this sweet, oops, look at the time, gotta fly!" With that, Julia fled the room.

            Leslie stared after her.  "Is it just me, or were we set up?"

            "By Julia?  Probably.  Hey, wanna seat?"

            "Sure," she answered, following him to a couch. 

            They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Tray broke it by coughing.  "So, you travel between dimensions?"

            "No, that was Julia's idea of a joke.  I'm _from another dimension.  I'm just an empath."_

            Tray's eyes widened.  "_You're the one from another dimension?  The one with the comics?"_

            "That's me."

            "Wow."

            The silence returned.

            "Soo…you're Superman?"

            Tray laughed.  "Another one of Julia's jokes.  I have enhanced strength and can fly."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah."

            "…Well, it was nice meeting you, Tray," Leslie said as she stood up.

            He rose with her.  "Nice meeting you too."  Leslie had to work hard this time not to turn beet-red at the sincerity he felt.  Actually, it was less the sincerity, more the attraction.  

            "Well…see you later."

            She fled to the safety of her room.

            "So?"

            Leslie looked up from her copy of _Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_ (A/N: the best book EVER!) at Julia who'd just burst into her room without knocking.  As usual.  "You left me."

            Julia waved her hand impatiently.  "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry.  So?"

            "So what?"

            Letting out an exasperated noise, Julia pounced onto the bed, grabbing the book from Leslie's hands and throwing it over her shoulder.  She spoke quickly, not even giving Leslie a chance to protest.  "So what did you think of him?"

            Leslie sulked briefly, then answered.  "Tray was very nice."

            "_Nice? Possibly the sexiest man at school was checking you out, and all you can say it that he was __nice?"_

            "HAH!  I _knew_ you were trying to play matchmaker!"

            "That's not the point.  Come on, Les, really?"

            "Really, Julia?  I just met him.  He was very nice, and he's definitely hot, but he's not my type."

            "Les!  How do you know that?  Like you said, you just met him!"

            "I just know."

            Julia's eyes widened.  "Are you gay?  Is _that_ it?"

            Leslie rolled her eyes.  "No, Julia, I'm not gay.  I just don't see Tray and me together."

            "Ooohh.  I get it.  You had a boyfriend back home, didn't ya?"

            Leslie grabbed Julia's face, forcing her to look her in the eye.  "Listen very carefully.  I.  Just.  Don't.  See.  It.  Yes, he'd hot.  Hot is good.  But I don't feel that _zing_, ya know?"

            Julia looked crestfallen briefly, before perking up.  "Well, too bad.  I thought he was checking you out."

            "He was."

            "Oh.  Well, plenty of fish in the sea!  I'll find someone for ya yet!  And you and Tray can be friends, I guess."

            "Gee, Julia, thanks for your permission.  What did you do for fun before I came along?  Torture puppies?"

            Julia grinned back at her.  "Shhh!  That's a secret!"

            Leslie just stared.  "…You disturb me."

            "Aw, I bet you say that to all the girls," Julia joked, batting her eyes flirtatiously as she left.

            Leslie waited until she felt Julia's essence descend the stairs before bursting out laughing into her pillow.  

            _I hate dinner._

_            Not the food, or the eating, of course.  Food is good.  Eating is good.  I just hate the people, all there in the cafeteria, all feeling different things.  It's enough to give a girl a migraine.  _

_            Tonight, though, was worse than usual.  Apparently, my escapade with Cyclops is the current hot topic.  If one more person asks me how I did it, I swear I'll scream.  Not to mention the fact that Scott keeps trying to corner me.  I really don't want to talk to him.  That just can't end well._  

            _All I want is to fall asleep and have one night without nightmares.  Is that too much to ask?  Is it?_

_            …Probably._

            Leslie stretched out on her bed, eyes closed, trying to relax.  10:35.  Curfew had been called, but most people were still up in their rooms.  Which meant she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

            Sighing, Leslie reached out with her powers, scanning the school.  _Hmm…Julia's asleep, God bless her twisted soul…Bobby's dreaming about…**EMMA?  Ewww.  Expected, but…ewww.**_

Tentatively, Leslie reached out to Kurt, not sending anything, just scanning.  An overwhelming sense of exhaustion fell over her.  Blinking, Leslie yawned, carefully backing away.  Seemed Kurt was about to go to bed. 

            She smiled slightly as she sent to him.  ~Sleep.  Good.  Leave.~  Which, when received, roughly translated into "Good night."

            She felt him sleepily send the same back to her before dropping off.

            _I wish I could do the same, Leslie thought ruefully.  She sat up suddenly, an idea forming.  __Or can I?  Concentrating, she brought up the feeling of exhaustion she'd received from Kurt, then flung it out towards the other members of the school._

                        Fifteen minutes later, she, and the rest of the school, was fast asleep.

            ~**_PAIN!_~**

Leslie sat bolt upright in bed, tears in her eyes.  "What the hell?" she whispered, terrified.  

            ~**_PAIN!~_**

            _Kurt…Hurrying, she grabbed her robe and opened the door. She ran down the hall, not even sure where she was going, just following the link._

            Eventually, she came to what she thought was Kurt's room.  Hesitantly, she tried the knob, relieved to find it unlocked.  Opening it, she found she had been right.

            Kurt lay in his bed, still asleep, moaning and sweating.  Now that she was closer, Leslie could tell that the pain was emotional, not physical, and mixed with panic.

            Leslie hurried over to the bed, then paused, uncertain what to do.  She certainly couldn't leave him like _this, if for no other reason than she'd never get back to sleep.  She thought briefly about getting a telepath, but knew that Kurt wouldn't want this to get out._

            Resignedly, she sat next to him on the bed.  Gently, she stroked his forehead while sending all the feelings of calm she could. 

            ~Peace.  Calm.  Safe.~

            She repeated her litany over and over.  Eventually, she felt him relaxing slightly.  His breathing calmed, the moaning stopped.  Soon, the panic had left.

            Relieved, Leslie stopped projecting and stood to go.  Immediately, the moaning started again.  Groaning softly, Leslie sat back down and started again.

            Twice more she stood to go.  Twice more the moaning returned.  Exasperated, Leslie resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to be heading back to bed anytime soon.  Exhausted from the long day and extreme use of her powers, she carefully curled up on the far side of the bed from Kurt, still sending.  Despite her best attempts, she eventually fell asleep, still sending to Kurt.


	15. Vas I drunk?

A/N:  Everyone seen the newer X-Men 2 trailer?  Soooo cool.  I want to see the movie!  NOW!!  How will I make it until May?  ::sob::

Disclaimer:

"Mouse Trap. I wanted to play Mouse Trap. You role your dice, you move your mice. Nobody gets hurt." 

– Bob the Tomato (need I say more?)

            Kurt sighed happily as he woke up.  Last night he'd had the best sleep he'd had in…well, far too long, if he couldn't even remember how long it'd been.  He snuggled closer to the warm body next to him, determined to fall back to sleep.

            _Vait__…through his sleep muddled brain, Kurt was starting to realize something was not right.  It suddenly hit him.  __Vhy_ is someone in my bed?!__

            Well, there _was_ the obvious explanation.  But Kurt was _really hoping that wasn't it.  That would be BAD.  BAD.  In the back of his mind, Kurt realized he still wasn't quite awake._

            _Vas I drunk?__  I don't feel drunk, I don't even remember drinking, but how else could it have happened?  Throughout all this, Kurt had kept his eyes clenched shut.  If he didn't see it, it wasn't happening.  Soon, though, it became apparent that that particular line of logic wasn't going to work.  Bracing himself, he opened his eyes.  "__Mein Gott in Himmel!"  Following that rather loud exclamation (technically a bellow, but who's paying attention?), Kurt fell out of bed for the first time in his life.  Even as a child, he'd had the same natural grace that had made him the circus star he'd been.  But apparently there really __is a first time for everything._

            Unfortunately for the still sleeping Leslie, during the night he'd somehow wrapped his tail around her ankle and hadn't _un_wrapped it before falling.  Consequently, she, too, ended up on the floor.

            "What the hell?" she murmured, rubbing her head, before making a face.  She wiped her tongue on her sleeve.  _Oh, gross, fur!  Wait…fur?  Oh, Leslie, you **didn't…**_Looking over at the stunned Nightcrawler who was inching as far away from her as possible, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall.  _You did.  You couldn't even stay awake long enough to get back to your own room?!_

            Kurt was still in shock.  He's thought that it might have been Stacy, or maybe Amanda paying him a visit from Limbo.  Hell, he'd even wondered if Cerise had come back.  But _Leslie?  The _seventeen_ year-old Leslie?  __I'm going to Hell.  _

            "Kurt," Leslie said cautiously, sensing his confusion and panic, almost at the same level it was last night, "Kurt, I need you to calm down, okay?"

            "_Vhat__ the hell are you doing here?!" he half whispered, half shouted at her._

            "Kurt, that isn't calm.  That's the opposite of calm."  Leslie wondered whether she should just calm him herself.

            "Calm?  You vant me to be _calm?"_

            Leslie never got a chance to answer, though it likely would have been an affirmative, for at that moment there was a pounding at the door.  "Hey, Kurt?" came Bobby's voice.  "You alright?"

            Blanching—though you couldn't see it—Kurt quickly shoved Leslie under the bed, ignoring her faint squawk of protest.  "Shut up!" he hissed, before hurrying over to the door.  "Bobby!  Did you vant something?"

            Bobby looked at Kurt strangely, wondering what was going on.  "Uh…you yelled.  And I thought something was wrong.  So…is it?"

            Kurt laughed, sounding slightly hysterical.  Leslie silently hit her head, wondering why she had to get in this situation with the world's worst liar.  She then realized that this was the second time she'd hidden under Kurt's bed.  _I need a life._

            "_Nein, nein, nothing's vrong, Bobby.  I vas…praying!"_

            Bobby was now convinced Kurt had lost it.  "You don't normally shout your prayers, Kurt."

            "_Ja_, but, vell…the Spirit moved me!"

            Bobby slowly backed away, remembering what his mother had told him about not arguing with the unstable.  "Okay…well…if anything _is_ wrong, you know where to find me, right?"

            "_Ja__, ja, I know.  Thanks, Bobby!"  Still forcing a smile, Kurt shut the door, then slumped against it, trying to regain his composure._

            Moments passed before a muffled female voice asked, "Can I come out now, or are you just going to shove me in the closet?"

            Growling, Kurt yanked the blankets up so as to make an exit.  "You.  Out here."

            "_Jäwohl__, mein führer!" Leslie said sarcastically crawling out, then smirked.  "And you've got the accent, too."_

            Kurt glared at her.  "Vhat are you doing here?"

            Leslie glared back.  "You, Mr. Wagner, were having a nightmare."

            Kurt waited for the continuation of that statement.  As it didn't come, he responded.  "_So_?"

            Leslie rolled her eyes.  "_SO you were keeping me awake.  _SO_ I came in here to use my powers to calm you down.  And every time I stopped and tried to leave you started up again, __SO I stayed and __SO I ended up falling asleep!"_

            Kurt felt like he would pass out from happiness.  _I didn't sleep vith her!  I'm not a pervert!  I'm not going to jail!  Or Hell!  He noticed that she was tapping her foot.  "Vhat?"_

            Leslie threw up her hands in exasperation.  "Oh, nothing!  Just a 'thank you, Leslie,' would have been nice.  But never mind!  Forget it!"

            "_Shhh_!" Kurt hissed, concerned Bobby would hear her.

            "Fine," Leslie snapped.  "I'm leaving."

            "Thank _Gott_."

            Ignoring the last remark, Leslie opened the door, than just as quickly shut it.  "Okay, I'm not leaving."

            Kurt sat bolt upright on his bed, where he'd collapsed.  "_Vhat?  _Vhy_?"_

            "Two reasons," she said, rubbing her eyes.  "One, I forgot my sunglasses, and while you're sensible enough to have dark shades, the hall is much brighter."

            Kurt groaned.  "And two?"

            "Scott and Warren are outside."

            _I have come to the conclusion that God is out to get me.  I must have really messed up somewhere.  Maybe it had to do with that time with the pickles…_

_            Damn, I haven't thought about that in years!  __Aspen__ and Sara and I were grounded for months!  I thought my mother was literally going to kill me!  _

_            …I miss her.  And Dad and Jake and __Aspen__ and Sara…___

_            I miss them all…_

_            …_

_            …Anyway.  God hates me.  Because no way would it have happened to anyone else.  I mean, what were the odds that Scott and Warren would be right outside Kurt's room?_

_            Bamf!_

            "I think I'm gonna be sick," Leslie groaned, collapsing on her bed.  She didn't remember teleporting being this bad before.  Of course, she'd only done it twice, the first time unconscious, the second time emotionally drained.  Still.

            "Ugh," was the only response she received from Kurt.  He had, necessarily, grown used to teleporting over the years, so that except for exceptionally long 'ports, or ones where he brought several passengers, it didn't bother him.  Thanks to the _verdammt_ link, though, he felt it through Leslie.  

            After hearing about Scott and Warren, Kurt had decided it was too risky for her to try and leave the normal way.  He did _not want the fact that Leslie had slept in the same bed as he getting out.  He winced just thinking of the repercussions._

            "You know," Kurt realized Leslie was talking to him, "before I came here, I was very rarely sick.  Maybe once every two years.  In the past weeks, though, I've vomited more than I have in the rest of my life."

            Kurt wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just sat at her desk, resting for the port back.

            "I'm sorry."

            Kurt's head snapped up.  "Vhat?"

            "I'm sorry."  Seeing his confusion, she elaborated.  "For the link, I mean.  I'm sorry."

            Kurt tiredly waived her excuse away.  "Don't be, _liebling.__  It's as hard on you as it is on me."_

            They sat in silence for a moment more before Kurt stood up, stretching.  "Vell, I have training.  _Auf Wiedersehen, Leslie."_

            "Wait, Kurt," she said suddenly, just as he was about to teleport.  Startled, he looked at her.  

            Leslie was biting her lip, as if something was wrong.  A wave of emotions suddenly hit him, jumbled up enough he knew she hadn't intentionally sent them.  

            Moments passed before Leslie gave a weak smile.  "Never mind, not important."

            Kurt paused, then teleported back to his room.  Once there he rested his head in his hands, thinking.

            Because he was pretty sure one of those feelings she'd sent had been desire.


	16. Freaky shit

A/N:  The gruesome chapter I warned you about is coming up in about five chapters.  Also, things will start happening quickly, but everything's for a reason, and all will be explained. Oh, and I just found out the most interesting thing.  I was going through my old comics and found my Classic X-Men #1.  In it, when Scott's powers start to return, his brown eyes turn—dum, da dum, dum—red on black.  I think this is pretty obvious that Remy is the third Summers brother.  No?  ::grins happily:: I'm so proud.

Disclaimer:

Gambit to Bishop: "A plasma rifle against a boysenberry pie? Can you see the 

crazed psychopath in this picture?" 

X-Men #8

            "Damn that man," Leslie hissed under her breath as she reentered her room.  She grabbed a brush and began attacking her hair, damp from the shower, conversing with her reflection as she did so.

            "I don't need this.  I don't want a relationship.  I _especially don't want one with a twenty-six year old priest."_

            Her reflection seemed to invite her to continue.

            "I mean, really, what can come of it?  Nothing!  And I'm seventeen!  We're at totally different places in life."  She put the brush down and began putting her hair in two braids.

            "And, okay, so he's attracted to me.  That's great, but _he_ can't want a relationship with _me_.  So even if I _were_ interested, which I'm _not_, it wouldn't go anywhere.  Right?"

            She was sure that the mirror was responding affirmatively.  Snapping the rubber band on her second braid, she nodded.

            "Right, then.  No more thinking about him.  Over him.  It's done."  Determinedly, Leslie turned away from her mirror and went to her closet to get dressed.

            But for some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about yellow eyes.

            "Leslie!  Over here!"

            Looking up, Leslie saw Tray calling her over to his table.  Grabbing a muffin, she hurried over, sitting next to Julia.  "Morning."

            "Hey," Julia said, smirking at her.  Leslie scanned her then rolled her eyes.  Apparently Julia hadn't given up on the idea of Leslie and Tray together.

            "This is evil.  It's Saturday.  I should be in bed still. Yet, here I am, with you.  My life keeps getting worse and worse."

            Tray smiled charmingly at her.  "Come on, Leslie, it can't be that bad."

            "Sure it can," Julia said cheerfully.  "Always remember, kiddies, life sucks, then you die."

            Leslie looked at her.  "You're not making me feel any better.  You know that, right?"

            "Details, details.  

            Leslie was about to reply when a sudden flash of malevolence came over her, followed almost instantaneously by a bowl of cereal, poured over her head.  Swearing, she jumped up, coming face-to-face with Angel—the student, not the X-Man.

            Angel smirked at her.  "Did I spill anything on you?"

            "What the hell way that for?!"

            The smirk dropped.  "Let's call it payback for your manifestation."  She whirled around and stormed back to her table.

            Leslie glowered as she stormed out of the cafeteria, ignoring the snickers, but smiled when she heard a screech and what she assumed was Julia getting Angel back.

            _Of course, I'll get her, too.  There's nothing quite like giving revenge a personal touch.  And I can get **very personal.**_

            Leslie stared at Jean, wondering if this day could get any worse.  "Excuse me?"

            Jean sighed, rubbing her eyes.  Being around Leslie tended to induce headaches.  "You're transferring from my first-aid class to Emma's telepathy."

            Leslie didn't miss the wave of disgust Jean experienced when she spoke Emma's name, but chose to ignore it.  "_Why?  I'm not a telepath!"_

            "No.  But it's the closest class we have to train you in.  Empaths are rarer than telepaths.  You're the only one currently here."

            Leslie decided to be blunt.  "But I can't stand Emma!  And she can't stand me!"

            "Actually, it was her idea you transfer there."

            Leslie just stared at her.  _Did I switch realities **again**?!_

Julia knocked on Leslie's door, ready to plot.  She received a muffled, "Come in!"   Entering, she stopped short.

            Now, gentle readers, you must understand Julia.  When she was twelve her powers manifested.  Unable to control them, she did some wild things, including turning her father's left hand into stone.  (Eventually, she did repair it.)  Since then, she'd seen some, as she says, "freaky shit" at the Xavier Institute.

            But none of it prepared her for what she saw.

            The room was dimly lit as always, a concession to Leslie's eyes.  And in the center of it sat Leslie, surrounded by the biggest pile of junk Julia had ever seen, covered in glue and glitter and wearing a frustrated expression.  "Um…Leslie?  What are you doing?"

            "Setting up."

            "For….what, exactly?"

            Leslie sighed.  "For getting back Angel and Wolverine.  Duh."

            "WHOA!"  Julia shouted, waiving her hands.  "Uh-uh, no way.  Angel, sure, but NOT Wolverine.  He'll kill us!"

            "You worry too much.  What happened to the girl who mixed all the pudding to put over Bobby's door?"

            "She ran for Vegas when you first mentioned Logan," Julia replied dryly.  "Why do you need to get him back, anyway?"

            Leslie scowled.  "He reported me for something, and I now have to go to counseling with Jean."

            "Oh."

            Leslie returned to…whatever it was she was working on.  "So, are you going to help me?"

            "Hell, no!  I told you, he'll kill us!"

            Leslie glared at her.  "Coward."

            "Yep."

            "Fine."

            Julia hurried out of the room, leaving a cursing Leslie behind.

            _In retrospect, I probably should have listened to Julia.  But I was frustrated—with _Logan___, with Angel, with Tray,  with Kurt—you know, life in general.  And I wanted to have some fun._

_            But, work before pleasure.  I had everything ready and was about to set it up when I was called to Emma's office.  I reluctantly shoved the supplies under my bed before rushing to her room…still covered in glitter, of course.  _

_            Like I said, I wanted to have some fun…_


	17. Black eyes met yellow

A/N:  

To cat:  umm…I'm sorta confused, because 1. my site is working, and 2. when I look at my story online, there's nothing wrong with the format.  Could you be more specific?  Thanks.

To Hoodoo:  Feel sorry for both of them.  Trust me.  Feel _very_ sorry. ;-)

Disclaimer: 

Moira: "Peter Wisdom! What are you doing with my swimming cap? Is nothing sacred 

anymore?"

Kitty: "Pete, you told me you stole it from Kurt's room…"

Kurt: "WHAT?!"

Pete: "I thought I did. That explains the pink frilly dressing gowns. I'd wondered 

about those…"

~Excalibur #93

            Emma Frost raised an eyebrow at the glitter-covered Leslie, but said nothing.  Years with teenagers had taught her when to _not ask questions; when students were covered in glitter was number seven, right after when they've been quiet all day and right before when an animal suddenly disappears.  "Miss Corring, please, have a seat."_

            Leslie sat, scowling.  "Was there something you wanted, Ms Frost?"

            Emma sat back in her seat, folding her arms.  She studied Leslie for a moment before smiling.  "First, congratulations on the number you did on the Omega Gang.  I must say, I was impressed."

            Leslie smiled slightly.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

            "Right," Emma said dryly, "and they just decided to turn themselves in on their own?"

            Leslie didn't reply.

            "Oh, I'm not criticizing.  I would have done the same thing in your place, although I would have been a bit more…vicious, shall we say?  After all, you probably saved some poor human's life."

            Leslie was now truly nervous.  "Umm…thank you?"

            Emma smiled, like the cat that caught the canary.  "That's part of why I called you here.  I'm afraid Mrs. Summers and Prof. Xavier don't see things quite the same way I do.  Their 'scruples' about using powers on others, you know.  But you don't have that problem, do you, Leslie?"

            Leslie was quite sure she'd been insulted.  She felt Kurt sending a question to her, wondering why her emotions were all over the place  She gritted her teeth, told him not to worry, and dampened the link best she could. "What exactly are you saying?"

            "That there is something in you that doesn't fit into Jean's or Xavier's ideals.  I can tell, more or less, what you're feeling, separate from the emotions of others.  Tell me, honestly, that you didn't enjoy turning those heathens into jelly."

            Leslie looked away.  "I…can't say that."

            "Look at me," Emma commanded.  Leslie did so, and was surprised to see the sympathy in her eyes.  "Don't ever be ashamed of enjoying your power.  It's like being ashamed to see because there are blind people in the world.  You have a talent for your power, Leslie, a natural skill for using it.  I want to help you develop it."

            "But…"

            Emma dismissed her protests, not needing telepathy to know what Leslie thought.  "Oh, Xavier and Jean talk a good talk, dear, but they get the same secret thrill.  They just don't admit it."  She leaned across the desk, eyes serious.  "You have drive, Leslie.  You're incredibly intelligent, despite the lack of interest you've shown in class.  You'll go far, powers or no powers—but using them just makes it easier.  And more enjoyable."  

            Leslie scanned her, searching for her true intentions, and was shocked to realize that there was no deceit in her.  She considered Emma's words.  "Jean couldn't help me block the feelings out.  I…I can tell, mostly, which are mine and which aren't, but I still_ feel them all.  Could you help me, do you think?"_

            "I have no idea.  But I'll certainly try.  Despite what you think of me, I truly wish to help you."

            "…Alright, then, Ms Frost."

            "Good."  Emma stood up, still smiling, and moved to open the door.  She paused, hand on the knob.  "Oh, and Leslie?  You won't mention anything to Mrs. Summers about Mr. Summers and me, will you?"

            Leslie grinned, realizing that, while sincere in her desire to help, this was what Emma had really wanted to talk to her about.  "I don't see that it's my business one way or another, Ms Frost.  But I wouldn't recommend that you two keep…working together.  I can only ignore things for so long, you know, before I might…slip up and mention it to the wrong person."

            Emma's smile changed from slightly condescending to respectful.  The two women stood there together, getting a feel of each other.  "I'll keep that in mind, Leslie."

            Still smiling, Leslie left, shedding glitter as she did so.

_            Ugh.  I feel positively dirty after talking with that woman.  I'll need to shower all day before I feel clean again._

_            I don't understand her at all.  She's all ice inside, but I get the feeling that once there was warmth, too.  And I know she's not in love with Scott…hell, **she** knows she's not in love with him…so why is she "sleeping" with him?  And what the hell does he think he's doing?_

_            Argh, you think about this stuff for too long, your brain goes to mush.  Like I told Emma, it's not my business…_

_            But, as Bobby said, when has that ever stopped me before?_

Leslie opened her door, determined to initiate Stage Two of Make Logan Pay.  Unfortunately, that plan was shot to Hell by the presence of one furry blue mutant—and we ain't talking Beast, people.

            Kurt Wagner was lying on her bed, smirking.  "Nice look, _liebling_.  The glitter's really you."

            She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I'm afraid to ask, but _what_ are you doing here?"

            In response, Kurt reached under her bed, pulling out her supplies.  

            "_How did you know?!"_

            "You vere gloating over the link.  After hearing about your adventure vith Angel, it didn't take much to figure it out."

            Rolling her eyes, Leslie sat down next to him, taking the box.  "Alright, you know.  So?"

            Kurt smiled slightly.  "So?  I really hope you're careful vith who you play a prank on, _liebchen_."

            She stared at him.  "That's _it?  No lecture, no confiscating anything?"_

            "Vell, if you vant me to I can…"

            "No, no, it's alright.  Really," Leslie said earnestly, causing Kurt to chuckle again.  She expected him to leave and was surprised when he didn't.  "Kurt?" she asked softly, sending ~concern~ as she did so.  "What is it?"

            He was silent for over a minute, during which Leslie was seriously considering doing a deeper scan, before he spoke.  "I left the priesthood today."

            "WHAT?!  Why on earth did you do _that?"_

            Slightly amused at her outburst, Kurt shrugged.  "I've…changed since I vas ordained.  I can no longer live the life of a priest.  I must serve God a different vay."

            "But why now?" Leslie was confused and drowning in guilt.  _Didn't tell him about the Pontiff, did you, girl?  What if you had, what if he was back to what he'd been?  You just screwed up his whole life!_

            Kurt frowned slightly, sensing her distress through the link.  He gently scanned and laughed when he realized that Leslie was afraid it was because of something she'd done, something she'd made him do.  "_Nein, __meine liebe, _nein_.  I vas going to leave anyvay.  Your being here just made me realize it sooner."_

            Leslie caught her breath.  Oh-so-softly, terrified of the response, she asked, "What did I have to do with it?"

            Kurt didn't reply.  He just looked at her before gently removing her sunglasses.  "Vhat do you think, _liebling_?"

            Her breathing seemed to be as loud as an expressway at rush hour.  She tried to bury herself in the simpler emotions of her classmates, but for once she was totally aware of just herself and Kurt.  Her hand shaking, she cupped it against the side of his face.  

            Black eyes met yellow.  

            Slowly, he leaned in and kissed her.  His touch was nervous, trying to remember what to do—he'd thought he'd never kiss a woman like this again, and it felt odd to do so.  He was reminded of his first kiss.  The same awkwardness, doubts, confusion, all were here as well as there.

            Leslie stiffened at his touch, terror running through her.  Then it was gone, before Kurt even felt it, and there was only him and her and his lips…

            Leslie sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.  _A dream…just a dream…_

            But it wasn't hers.

            Shaking slightly, she rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind.

            After talking to Emma, Kurt had been in her room.  And they had talked, briefly.  But he hadn't mentioned leaving the priesthood, and they certainly hadn't kissed.

            _Yes, then he left, and I set things up for Angel…_

            Evening Mass had followed, dinner in Salem Center with Tray and Julia.  Homework.  Bed.  The Darkness…going into—

            _Oh.  Dear.  Lord._

            _Going into Kurt's dream!!_

Leslie didn't fall back to sleep that night.

A/N: Aren't I evil?  Coming up—what _did_ Leslie do to Angel?  Dealing with Kurt!  And—why it is bad to taunt Wolverines.


	18. Interlude 1: Once Upon a Time

A/N:  It isn't necessary to read this, but it sets the tone a bit.  Plus, it reveals more about Leslie's past, what Hank found, and what she's hiding.  But it's all _very_ subtle.

Disclaimer:

_"…happily ever after didn't last as long as we'd hoped…"_

_~The 10th Kingdom_

~Interlude 1: Once upon a time…~

            Once upon a time…

            Once upon a time is where things are safe.  The giants haven't come down from the beanstalk yet.  The little girls are still safe in their beds, red cloaks hanging on the wall.  Twelve princesses can still dance, mermaids still sing, and spinning wheels are safely locked away in the tower…

            But sometimes you have to leave safe behind.

            Sometimes the cinder girl has to take a chance.  Sometimes the little maid runs into the woods, running toward something—she doesn't know what—that's better, sweeter, stranger.  Sometimes the princess just has to try and spin.  And you have to wonder, didn't they ever tell her what would happen if she did?  They _had_ to have told her, to warned her…

            But she tries anyway.  Like her friend who takes the apple from the hag.  Twice already she'd been tricked—once by a corset, once by a hairpin—but she takes the apple, because it's so beautiful, because it's forbidden, because she can't live with herself knowing she didn't even try it.

            And sometimes things workout.  Sometimes the beast turns out to be a prince.  Sometimes the ugly duckling turns out to be a swan.  Sometimes the prince finds the princess and with a kiss the spell is broken.  The pricked finger is healed, the apple coughed up, the fairy tale finished.  

            But sometimes…

            But sometimes they don't work out so well, and that's the part that people like to forget.  Sometimes the match-girl dies.  Sometimes the mermaid loses both her legs and her life.  Sometimes the tin soldier melts.  Sometimes the red shoes have to be cut off, taking the feet with them.  Sometimes the spell isn't broken, sometimes the curse is forever.  

            Sometimes the beast is a just a beast and eats the girl whole.  And he doesn't feel badly, because he knows he's a beast, and that's what he does.  Sometimes the little men in the wood take the girl and have their way with her instead of helping her.  And sometimes the prince just never thinks to leave his castle, and the princess sleeps for eternity.

            And unhappily ever after is just as likely as happily.  People forget that, because they want to take the risk, they want to live, they want to try, and they can't let themselves think for a moment that maybe it won't work out.  

            Leslie's different.  She took the chance once, ran into the woods, but didn't find her happy ending.  It took her ages to find a way out of the shadowed forest, to finally escape the wolf.  She remembers it, she has to stop and look at her life.  She sees the paths ahead, and realizes she can only take one.  There is no turning back.

            So what will it be?  Now and forever, or wait and never?  Run back into the woods or stay locked in the tower?  Make your choice, Les, place the bet, play the cards.  Kiss safety goodbye or cling to it with all your might?  You can't have it both ways.

            Come on.

            Time's running out.

~End Interlude 1~        


	19. SOMEONE’S GONNA DIE!

A/N:  I hate Angel.  I actually hate all the special class students except Dummy.  And, of course, Marvel killed him.  Typical.  Anyway, if I seem mean to her, it's because I hate her.  Right.

Disclaimer:        

"Hello, you've reached the brain of David Haller. There's no one here to take your call right now. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you. Beeep" -Professor Charles Francis Xavier's subconscious, X-Factor #70 

            Angel Salvatore stretched languidly as she rose from her bed, careful not to disturb Beak, who was muttering in his sleep.  Naked, she opened her windows to let in the fresh air, smirking when a fellow student, a flyer, glanced up and saw her.  He immediately dropped to the ground in surprise.

            Still smiling, she carefully closed the drapes and moved to grab her robe.  As she did so, she passed by her dresser mirror.  She froze, one arm in the robe, before slowly turning her head to confirm what she'd seen was true.

            "SOMEONE'S GONNA **_DIE_**!!"

            There are certain set rules at the Xavier Institute that, while not in any book, are broken only on pain of whatever a group of adolescent mutants decided to do.  One of them is that you don't wake anyone up on the weekends, barring alien invasions, sentinel attacks, or other Bad Things.  Therefore, the shout of rage caused several other students to yell back, waking up those few fortunate souls who had slept through Angel's tirade.

            Leslie, who had only recently fallen asleep, grinned into her pillow before returning to the warm bliss.  _One down, one to go…_

Dani Moonstar, recently returned to Xavier's to teach, stopped in the hallway and stared at the irate girl passing her.

            It wasn't her gossamer wings that drew Dani's attention—she'd seen odder things.  No, it was the…well…crude (read: just short of pornographic) images that someone had drawn onto them with what Dani guessed was a permanent marker.  The more, shall we say, "sensitive" areas of the figures were covered in glitter that had been super-glued on.

            _Maybe it's not too late to join X-Corps…_

Leslie had worked hard to ensure that her second prank went off.  She'd risen early every morning since Logan had reported her, gathering information, timing him, making sure she knew exactly what he was going to do at each second.

            Luckily for her, Logan, like his animal namesake, was a creature of habit.  Every morning he performed the same routine, and it was his first stop that Leslie planned to use to his advantage.

            Logan entered the Danger Room, snapping out his claws as he called up his favorite program.  He tensed as the room darkened and the scenery shifted to that of a deserted battlefield, already red with the blood of fallen men.

            His sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps.  He spun, slashing, expecting Sabretooth.  Instead, he saw…

            "What the hell are you?" he demanded of the three brown creatures in front of him.  One wore a green shirt, one red, and one blue.

            "We're the Chipmunks!" the three declared in high-pitched, whiny voiced.

            "And _we're the Chippettes!" Three equally whiny, but female, voices from behind him added.  _

            Logan narrowed his eyes, growling.  "End program."  Instead of obeying him, the computer produced hundreds of little blue creatures.

            "What the flaming hell is going on?!"

            "La, la, la la, la la, la, la la, la la, la…"

            In her bed, Leslie chuckled as she sensed Logan's desperation as he clawed at the adamantium-enforced walls of the Danger Room.  _Wait until he meet the Care Bears…She snickered as she fell back to sleep, wondering if anyone would find him before noon._

A/N:  Yeah, it's shorter, but I wrote this at the same time I wrote the interlude, and together they're about the length of one normal chapter.  Plus, it seemed like a good place to end it.


	20. Bad, bad, bad Beast

A/N:  I'm  baaaaack!  You thought you'd gotten rid of me—you were wrong!  BWAHAHA!

Ahem.  Sorry, had a migraine since Saturday, little giddy that I can open my eyes and elephants don't start tap-dancing in my skull.  Couple a notes and stuff.

Cris-X:  You _sure_ I didn't tell you anything in Interlude 1?  _Really _sure?  ::grins evilly::

Darlin: Ah, yes, how _did Leslie get to Angel's wings?  All will be revealed soon…_

Nate:  Don't die, here's more!

            She shivered a bit on the stone floor, trying to remember something, something important, but it was gone, gone like everything.  Her blood was drying on her body, sticky, coppery, but she didn't move to wipe it off.  It was warm, the only warmth she had, no clothes, no blankets, just her blood…

            The tickle in her mind came again, persistent, but she blocked it down.  Master wouldn't want her to reach out again, no, not again, never again, last time she'd hurt, three men dead, oh no, never again.

            Master wanted to help her, he did, because he was Good, and she was the Beast, and he wanted her to be Good to.  If she was good then Master would take the memories away, wouldn't make her live them again and again and again…

            _…and she screamed, but he wanted in her mind, couldn't reach it the normal way, used magic, dark, tearing at her like the Darkness, not the Darkness, but same, and he dug into her mind and her thoughts bled…_

            She whimpered, knowing she wasn't supposed to think those things, knowing that Master would never hurt her like that.  _Bad, bad, bad Beast…_

            The tickling in her mind was stronger, and for a moment she broke down and she felt it, concern and love and desperation, and wanting to know where she was.

            And something in her, deep within, reached out and sent back just a little, just a very little, little pain, little hurt, and love, oh, the love wasn't little, was it, no, she knew him, the love was huge, and oh, God, here I am, help me, save me!

            And then the door was open and Master was there and she knew she'd been Bad, and the memories came to life again…

            And she drowned in them…

A/N:  What was _that?!  Hmm…sounds like we need to go back in time!  So that's what we'll do, next chapter!_


	21. And then there was oblivion

A/N: ::whistles innocently:: Nope, I didn't enjoy making my readers suffer.  Not at all.  The thought never even crossed my mind while I wrote the last chapter.  Did you know it's hard to whistle and grin at the same time?

Disclaimer:  

"Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?'. Then a voice says to me, "This is going to take more than one night." 

~Charlie Brown 

            Sunday:  9:48 AM

            Scott Summer groaned as the Danger Room display blinked "OCCUPIED."  He bashed his head against the door repeatedly.

            He'd finally broken it off with Emma last night, which was good for his marriage, but left things uncertain between them.  Then, for no reason he could remember, he and Jean had gotten in an argument that ended with him being thrown—literally—onto the couch.  And now, someone was in the Danger Room during HIS TIME!  "All—thud—I wanted—thud—to do—thud, thud—was to—thud—blow something up!" THUD!

            Grumbling, he made his way to the nearby viewing screen to see who was going to be Cable's partner next time his son showed up.  "We have a schedule.  There's a _reason for the schedule.  But does anyone __follow it? __Noooo__!"  He would have continued complaining, but was unable to due to the fact that his jaw was somewhere in the vicinity of his knees._

            It was Logan.

            He was sitting on the Danger Room floor, looking like he wanted to go feral, but was just too tired to do so.  Strange cartoon creatures, some of which Scott recognized from when Nathan was little, hung on him and sat around him, singing.  Two of them were putting his hair in braids.

            After his senses returned (they'd taken the opportunity to visit Tibet; lovely place, very clean,) Scott snapped to attention.  He quickly entered the emergency override code and shut the program down.  The door hissed open, and he carefully hurried in.  

            "Logan, are you…" he trailed off, wrinkling his nose, as a sickeningly sweet odor overwhelmed him.  "What the hell _is that?!"_

            "…Roses, lilies, chocolate, cookies, strawberries, coconut, spearmint, and gingerbread," Logan answered through gritted teeth as he staggered to his feet.  "Whoever did this must have thought it went with the theme.  Plus it hid their scent from me."

            "I figured this wasn't your intended program," Scott dryly replied.

            "Grrr…" Logan growled before answering.  "Ya think, Scotty?  I'm gonna hurt whoever did this.  Badly."

            "You might want to wash the pink dye out of your hair first," Scott suggested, unable to hide a smirk.

            "Grrrrr…"

            Sunday: 11:19 AM

            Julia glared at Leslie who was happily humming as she worked one her calculus homework.  "Les.  Come on.  The whole _school's_ grounded til you confess.  Please?  For me?"

            "Nope.  Not gonna do it."

            "Leeeessslieeeee," she whined, screwing her face up into a pout.  

            "Julia.  No.  And you're not telling, either."

            Sighing, Julia dropped her pout and returned to glaring.  "How long are you going to keep this up?"

            Leslie contemplatively studied the ceiling.  "How long til Logan and Angel calm down?"

            Julia groaned, unknowingly imitating Scott's earlier actions and banging her head against the wall.  "We're doomed."

            "Why are _you doomed?"_

            "I'm never going to leave campus again."

            "Oh."

            Sunday: 11:19 AM

            Unbeknownst to the inhabitants of the Xavier Institute, a group of men were hiding in the school's woods.  One of them was speaking to the others.

            "We're in and out.  The Beast is our objective—ignore the other mutants."

            The men nodded as one.

            "Good."  He glanced at a device he held.  The Pontiff himself had given it to him for this mission.

            He would not fail.

            "Go."

            Sunday: 11:20 AM

            No sooner had the leader spoken the word than the entire group—five men in all—teleported into Leslie's room.

            Startled, the girls looked up as the humming sound the teleporters made reached their ears.  Before they had a chance to react, one of the men hit Julia over the head, knocking her over.  Another grabbed Leslie and placed a rag over her mouth and nose.  She quickly stopped struggling and slumped over into his arms.

            As Julia drifted into unconsciousness, she vaguely heard a voice say, "We have the Beast.  Objective accomplished."

            "Still ignore the other?"

            "She's meaningless.  Go, now."

            And then there was oblivion.


	22. I am God

            Chapter 23: …I am God…       

            _The Darkness had held me all the while I was unconscious.  Once feared, I would soon cherish it as my only escape.  But even when I held it dearest I feared it.  Some things, comforting as they are, are wrong.  The Darkness, I knew even then, was one of them._

_            But it soon faded, to my relief and dismay, as I came back to the world of the living and entered Hell…_

            Sunday: 11:32 AM

            "She vas VHAT?!"

            Jean and Emma had felt the attackers presence and had rushed to Leslie's room, but were too late too stop them.  Jean had rushed Julia to the infirmary, where she was met by Kurt, demanding to know what had happened to Leslie.  Emma had taken him to Xavier, explaining the situation to both of them, and had then gone to assemble any X-Man he could find in the war room.  Julia had shortly thereafter revived informed Jean what had happened, who had just relayed it to the rest of the team.

            "Kidnapped," Emma replied grimly, mentally cursing herself for failing another student.  

            "But by whom?" Hank asked quickly, cutting Kurt off.  The smaller blue mutant was passing anxiously back and forth, trying to fight off the feelings of terror that were pouring out at him through the link.

            There was silence for a moment before Jean answered softly.  "The Church of Humanity."

            Kurt froze, Bobby swore, and Logan growled, asking what the others feared to.  "Ya sure, Jeannie?"

            Emma answered for her.  "Positive.  I recognized the uniforms from Julia's memories."

            "But why would they want Leslie?"  Bobby asked.

            Emma shrugged.  "They called her the 'Beast.'"

            Logan drew in a quick breath.  "Fuck.  They know."

            Kurt whirled to face him, eyes glinting dangerously.  "They know vhat, Logan?"

            Groaning, Logan rubbed his eyes, telling them about how he'd interrogated the captured Church of Humanity member and the story he'd been told.  "The 'Beast' was what the guy called a creature that the Pontiff's parents brought here from another reality.  It killed the bastard's dad, then the Pontiff killed it and his mom.  It sounded like he's their version of Satan."

            "And they think Leslie's connected to him because she's from another time line," Jean whispered in horror.

            There was silence for a moment before Kurt growled.  "Vhat are ve vaiting for?  Get on Cerebra and find her, dammit!"

            Xavier looked at him, face haggard.  One could believe now that he was as old as he was.  "We can't, Kurt.  Leslie's shielded from us.  Cerebra won't work."

            Kurt glared at him.  "You could try!"  He teleported away without waiting for a response.

            Leslie awoke filled with pain.  She tried to move, but found herself tied to something. Reaching out with her powers, she felt something evil and cold.  She quickly drew back into herself, but her actions alerted her captors of her awareness. 

            "So.  You're awake."

            Leslie unsuccessfully struggled to turn her head in the direction of the voice.  "Who are you?"

            "Who am I?"  The voice dripped with evil, sending a chill down her spine.  "I am God."

            Leslie froze, suddenly having a good idea who it really was, but hoping against hope that she was wrong.  "I doubt it."

            Her response this time was a sharp blow across the face, hard enough that she only barely kept herself from crying out in pain.

            "If there had been a doubt about your identity before, your very insolence removes it.  You may not have the form of your predecessor, but the same evil hangs about you that did him."

            Leslie spat out blood, then tried to speak again.  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

            Another blow, harder than the last if possible.

            "You think we believe you, Mistress of Lies?  You have come to corrupt this world.  I shall not let you.  I will purify it of you, then the mutants.  But first…" and the evil she felt come from him then was enough to make her vomit.

            "…first you shall tell me all you know."

            Leslie's last conscious act was to scream, both aloud and emotionally, for help.

            Chapter Twenty-Three (unposted) 

            Back to Writings

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	23. I'm in love vith her

A/N: Well, here's another chapter.  It's a little longer than the past few were.  Hope you like it.

Disclaimer:

Don't stumble.  Stay Humble.

~bazooka joe

            First he had tried to read her mind the same as any other, but he couldn't.  Entry was forbidden him.  So he did the next best thing.  If he couldn't get anything out of her mind, well, he'd just put something in.

            It was an easy spell, all things considered.  A few words, few gestures, and at his command the Beast relived her worst memories.  He couldn't see them, but her screams sometimes held words.  Soon he was able put together what she experienced.

            Not that it mattered.  He needed her weak, needed her to tell him what she planned for the world, what she knew of it.  But somehow she still resisted.

            They burned her, then, carefully applying the flame to one spot of her body at a time.  Her long hair became scorched as the acrid smell filled the room.  Her screams turned to whimpers, but she said nothing.

            They healed her, not so to relieve the pain, but so she would live longer.  Eventually, he was confident, he would break her.

            But the beatings had done nothing to make her talk, even when they'd used the whips with diamond shards.  Again, they'd healed her.  Again, he'd brought the nightmares.

            After the beatings had been the carving with knives.  Into her flesh they'd drawn symbols and words in ancient tongues, declaring her the Evil One, cursing her for eternity.  They'd nearly lost her that time when one of the Priests slipped and cut a major artery. 

            The Healers had done their job too well.  When she awoke, she managed to attack with her long-latent powers, evoking terror in her captors.  One man had died of a heart attack before she'd been stopped, while two others killed each other for some unknown reason.

            The nightmares stayed a whole day that time.

            She hadn't tried to escape again, whether from fear of the nightmares or from guilt, he didn't know.

            But she still wouldn't—perhaps, he allowed, couldn't—tell him what he wanted to know.  And even a God can only wait so long.

            Sighing, his ancient body creaking, he leaned back in his chair, thinking.  The Beast had a connection with the Unclean Priest, but she's unconsciously shut it down once the pain started.  He'd thought it to be to his benefit to…encourage her to keep it shut, to hide her from the mutants.

            Perhaps, though, it was time to try something else…

            Tuesday 1:19 PM

            Wolverine sighed, running his hand through his hair as he looked at his friend, trying to think of what to say.

            Kurt sat on the dock outside the boathouse, tail flicking the water, a bottle of his German beer in his hand.  Several empty bottles of the same type littered the dock behind him and bobbed in the water.

            "Weren't you the one who told me never to drink alone?"

            Kurt didn't even turn around.  "Logan.  Vhat do you vant?"  (A/N:  I vant to vash and vipe your vindows!  Okay, bad joke, sorry.)

            In response Logan grabbed the beer from him and chucked it away.  "Yer not helpin' her, Kurt, by gettin' drunk."

            "It's been over a veek, Logan, and ve still don't know vhere she is.  She's blocking all of my attempts to read her, but she's leaking terror and pain through the link.  No vone knows anything productive for me to do, so if I vant to get drunk, I'm going to get drunk, and no _verdammt lecture of yours will stop me!"_

            Logan wondered, briefly, how mad Chuck would be if he just threw Nightcrawler into the pond.  Normally, he wouldn't care, but Xavier had been showing a sadistic streak lately.  Last time he'd pissed Chuck off he's ended up on nursery duty.  And Logan could only deal with mutant toddlers once.

            Grumbling mentally, he sat down next to Kurt on the dock.  "Look, Elf, I know yer worried.  We all are.  Heck, Bobby's about as close to her as you are, except for the link, and he's been snappin' at everyone.  But ya gotta stop this."

            Kurt continued to stare across the water.  "You don't understand."

            Logan roughly grabbed Kurt by the shoulders, spinning him around.  "Then explain it to me."

            Kurt just stared at him, eyes empty and hollow.

            Swearing, Logan rose to head back to the mansion.  He hadn't gone five paces when Kurt spoke.

            "I'm in love vith her, _mein_ _freund."_

            Startled, Logan stopped in his tracks.  Later he wondered how he, with his enhanced senses, hadn't noticed it before.  The answer, he realized, was that he simply hadn't been looking for it.

            He numbly turned to face Kurt, taking in his haunted expression and tortured eyes.  Wolverine could think of only one thing to say.

            "Fuck."


	24. I know vhere she is!

A/N:  I got nothing to say…um…yeah…

            "Fuck."

            "Logan, you said that already," Kurt said tiredly, tail drooping.

            "Yeah, well…damn."

            "And you teach children vith that mouth?"

            Logan dropped next to him, his metal skeleton shaking the dock underneath them as he did so.  "Kurt…love?  With…_Leslie_?  The kid who's missing?"

            Kurt laughed, bitterly.  "'Kid.'  Thanks for reminding me, Logan.  Because you know that her age hasn't crossed my mind."

            "That wasn't what I meant, Kurt."

            "_Ja.  It vas.  Don't feel badly, __mein freund.  If the situation vas reversed, I'm sure I'd say the same."_

            Logan grabbed one of the still-full bottles, draining it in one gulp.  "So…when did this happen?"

            Kurt sighed.  "I don't know…"

            Logan studied him.  "Are you sure it ain't just the link?"

            "_Nein.  At least, I don't think so…"  He was silent for a while before continuing.  "Vhen she first came…I thought she vas sveet, though she vas frightened of me.  But one night…ach, Logan…I vas 'brooding,' as she said…and she just talked vith me…" Kurt shrugged helplessly, trying to find the words to explain._

            "And then, in New Mexico…just being around her grew…difficult.  I…" Kurt stopped, unable to go on.

            Logan ran a hand over his face, trying to decide what to do.  "Elf…what about that?" he asked, pointing at the collar Kurt wore.

            "…I don't know, Logan.  I don't know…"

            Logan took that in before asking his next question.  "What about 'er?  What does she feel, Kurt?"  

            Kurt looked at him, hope slightly shining through his eyes.  "I think that she feels the same."

            "You talked to her bout it?"

            "_Nein."_

            Logan swallowed another beer before tiredly rising.  "Elf…I don't know what to tell ya.  All I know is this…I've lost a lot of people I've loved.  After that happens, ya tend to hold on tight to those ya have left.  Cause I've seen a lot of what the world has ta offer a man…and love's rare.  Rarer still when th'other person feels the same."  He clasped Kurt's shoulder for a minute before he headed back to his room and to his picture of Mariko.

            Kurt staid there a while before he rose.  The hot afternoon sun beat down on him as he walked slowly along the lake.  Closing his eyes, he reached in and out through the link.  ~_Leslie…vhere are you…~_

He gasped as he received the answer he hadn't expected. 

            ~Pain, oh God, pain, help me, here, here, HERE, I'm here, I'm still alive, don't forget me, don't leave me, PAIN, dammit, it hurts, Kurt, oh, Love, so much Love, you, I Love you so much, please, I'm here, help me…"

            He opened his eyes, surprised to see Jean leaning over him.  "Kurt?  Logan found you unconscious by the lake…what happened?"

            Eyes burning with tears, he sat up, looking her in the eye.  "I know vhere she is, Jean.  I know vhere they have Leslie…"


	25. They will die

A/N: sorry for the delay, my comp's broken. I'm borrowing a friends to write this. If the format's messed up, it's because this is a reaaally old edition of Word. I'll repost later, don't worry.

Disclaimer:  
  
"Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do with a single Sunday afternoon."

~Uknown

"Kurt," Jean urged, "slow down. Everyone will still be there if you walk."

Kurt ignored her. "Jean…every moment I vaste here, Leslie suffers. Ve _must_ rescue her soon."

Jean sighed, but said no more.

Kurt burst into the War Room, taking its occupants by surprise.

"Alright, Kurt, what's so important that it had to interrupt my phone conference?" Warren asked.

"I know vhere Leslie is being held."

That got everyone's attention.

"How did you come by this information?" Beast asked, trying not to allow himself to hope too much.

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not sure. Leslie…she reached out to me, for a moment, and now…I can't feel her emotions like I did, but I can feel vhere she _is_. I _know_ vhere she is."

"Where?" Bobby asked, lips pressed tight.

"Montana."

Logan looked at him. "Elf, the complex is abandoned. You know that."

"_Ja_. But there are _other_ complexes. Or at least one other. I can show you on a map."

"What are we waiting for?" Bobby asked, quickly rising. "Kurt can show us on the Blackbird same as here. Let's _go_!"

"Wait a minute, Bobby," Warren cautioned. "This could easily be a trap. We should-"

He was cut off by Kurt's glare. "Of course it could be. But Leslie _is_ there. So if it is a trap…we must enter it. For her sake." He hurried out the door, Bobby on his tail, the other members of the away team following. 

Emma glanced at Xavier. "I'm going with them." Not giving him a chance to argue, she calmly left, firmly closing the door behind her.

Xavier turned to Jean, but before he could say anything, the comm. buzzed. "Prof. Xavier!" Annie's panic voice rang out, "Alex is strangling Carter!"

Running towards the infirmary, Xavier couldn't help wondering if this day would get any crazier.

He glided into her cell, robes brushing the floor. "Beast," he said softly, his voice deceivingly gentle.

With a slight whimper she struggled to rise, her battered body unable to answer her commands.

He ignored her struggles, waiting silently until she reached a kneeling position, not taking note of the way her skin, stuck to her sleeping bad by her blood, ripped off her body as she rose, nor the way her wounds began to bleed again.

"Beast…thou art not pure."

She let out a keening moan, fearing that this would lead to the memories…memories of a man's body crashing into hers, despite her fights…memories of later, on a metal table, when she bled and they took her baby away…of the secrets and lies she had told to hide it from everyone…

"No," he said, knowing what she thought. "Thou need not fear. Thou art not pure…but I will make thee so."

Silence. She didn't know how to respond. She barely recognized his words for what they were.

He bent down, taking her chin in his hands. "Men are coming, who would have thee leave, who would take you from me."

Anger now. How dare they take her away from her Master, who only wanted to help her?

"When they come…you will bring their fears out, as you did to the three dead."

Agreement.

"And they will die." 


	26. They'd realized it was a trap

A/N:  Okay, y'all have to go see my site.  I made a new layout, and it's great, if I may say so myself.  Also, if you want an idea of what Julia looks like,  I made a doll of her, too.

*sigh*  This would have been up sooner (I have half the story plotted out) but I finished my webpage (I've spent…nearly a month on the new format, which is just SAD, but it's also beautiful, and I won an award for it!) and Fri was my birthday…so it got pushed back.

Disclaimer:

"You know what the best thing about my birthday is?  It's the 25th.  The latest Easter can be is the 25th.  Which means that I can always have birthday cake, without having to worry about Lent!"  *shovels cake down at impossible rate.*

"Miranda…you're not allowed to give up sugar for Lent again.  Ever."

~Conversation between me and my mum.  Ya had to be there.

            Kurt groaned as he came to, the world spinning.  He then groaned louder as he remembered what had happened.

            The team had arrived at the base Kurt named, going in guns blazing.  Emma had scanned the first man they'd come across, learning the location of Leslie's cell.  They'd stormed in, Logan taking out the guards as Jean-Paul broke down the door.  

            And that's when they'd realized it was a trap.

            A spell was waiting for them, denying them the use of their powers.  Immediately after entering they were ambushed, the Pontiffs followers knocking them out.  Rather painfully, too.

            Kurt scanned the room, noticing that Jean-Paul, Warren, and Emma were still out.  He started when he saw Bobby vomiting.  Kurt glanced worriedly toward Logan.  "Vhat's vrong?"

            Logan just nodded his head toward the wall behind Kurt.  "That."

            Turning, Kurt's heart broke.

            She sat there, studying them, eyes devoid of curiosity…he wasn't even sure she saw them.  

            She was naked, her body shivering in the cold cell, though she didn't seem to notice.  Her arms and legs were covered in cuts and scabs and blood, not all of which was dry.  One cut over her left eye in particular, the back of his mind noticed, poured the precious liquid freely, running down her face, pooling on the floor, forming a twisted puddle.  She sat on some sort of mattress, dirty and flat.  It appeared as she hadn't moved from it for quite a while.

            Kurt immediately repeated Bobby's actions, turning his head aside so she wouldn't see him.  He turned back to her and away from his mess.  "_Mein gott, _liebchen_…vhat did they do to you?" he demanded, voice hoarse._

            Leslie didn't answer.  She was beyond words at the moment, the same spell that now blocked her link to Kurt, keeping him from feeling her, muddling her thoughts.  Part of her wondered if these were the ones she should kill…but she realized He would be angry if she did so and they were the wrong ones.  Still staring, she decided to wait a bit until He told her for sure.

            "Leslie, speak," Kurt begged, amber eyes pooling with tears.  He felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to see it was Bobby.  

            "Man…I don't think she's in there," he said solemnly, voice hollow.  He'd come to think of her as another Jubilee, kid sister almost, someone to laugh with and play pranks-he alone had recognized the Danger Room stunt as hers.  But he was beginning to realize that Kurt thought of her as much more…

            "_Nein," he whispered, desperate and yet firm, "I don't believe that."  He moved to stroke her face, stiffening when she franticly backed away, revealing the little of her body that had been hidden._

            Logan silently handed Kurt his uniform jacket.

            Slowly, Kurt moved toward her, until he was able to drape the coat over her, providing at least the illusion of modesty.  She was stock still, colourless eyes tracing his every move. 

            Gently, he stroked her left cheek, scarred but healed, with the back of his hand.  After a moment, she leaned in to the softness of his fur, eyes closing. 

            Some part of her remembered the longing to feel his fur on her skin…and Kurt felt a slight stirring in his mind.

            It was gone in an instant, but Kurt's tears were now of joy.  He was sure now that Leslie was still in there, somewhere.

            But would she ever come out…


	27. No

A/N: Sorry this was so late, but I was at a family reunion…with no internet.  The horror.

Disclaimer:

"See not evil, hear no evil, speak no evil…"

"…so what the hell am I supposed to do for fun?!"

            Logan watched the girl-he couldn't think of this broken creature as Leslie-shift closer to Kurt, rubbing her cheek against him.  The resemblance to a wild animal didn't escape him.  

            Tugging Bobby's shoulder, he moved with him to the other side of the room, ostensibly checking on his still-unconscious companions.

            "It's not good, is it?"  Bobby whispered as he checked Emma's pulse.

            Logan was silent for a moment before answering.  "No.  Kid's been through a lot.  More than some X-Men I know could have survived.  And I ain't talking about just you," he added, noticing the way Bobby deflated at his words.  "Don't think that 'Ro or Cyke could get through this any better than you could."

            Bobby blushed slightly from the compliment, but even with his heightened senses Logan couldn't detect it-a benefit of his mutation that few people recognized.

            "Think she'll make it?"

            Logan stared at him as he answered.  "No."

            Kurt froze as Leslie shifted her body partially on to his lap, Logan's coat sliding down her back.  His mind knew that this wasn't the time for romance…but his body just knew that the woman he'd fallen for was sitting on his lap.  Naked.  Sans clothes.  In her birthday suit.

            He forced himself to relax, breathing deeply as he gently stroked her hair, noticing angrily how chard and brittle it was.  He'd dreamed of doing just this to her hair, but in his fantasies it had been like liquid silk…

            Kurt forced himself from that train of thought.  "Leslie, _meine__ liebe," he whispered, "vhat do you vant me to do for you?  How can I help you?"_

            She turned her head to look at him, black eyes drawing him into their murky pools.  She opened her mouth slightly, as if to answer him, then closed it.  Instead she nuzzled her head against his chest.

            Sighing in frustration, Kurt continued with his ministrations, thinking of things to do to the Pontiff when he got his hands on him.

            She wasn't sure what the blue one said to her, but she sensed, deep on a level that even her powers couldn't bring her to, that he wanted to help her.  She longed to speak with him, to let him know that it was okay, soon she'd be Pure, and then they could speak…

            The coat-was that what they called it?  She thought it was-rubbed painfully against her swollen back, but she made no attempt to move it, reveling in the musky scent it carried with it.  He had placed it on her, and she already knew that she did not wish to do anything to hurt him.

            She desperately hoped that these were not the ones He wanted her to kill…and for the first time she could remember, she thought about disobeying her Master.


	28. She will join them

Fifi: Oh, my brave one, what shall we do?!  
Lumiere: There is only one thing to do: we must scream like bloodless cowards.

Both: HHHHEEEEEELLLLLLPPPPP!!!

…

Fifi: What shall we do _now?!_

Lumiere: Now, I believe we shall perish.

~Belle's Magical World (And if my cousin makes me watch it one more time, I'll scream.)

            Kurt jerked awake, foggily wondering what was happening.  His eyes widened as he saw Leslie, still in his arms, studying him, a sense of emotion, of presence, in her eyes.  Quivering slightly, he did his best not to move as she slowly traced first his eyes, then his ears, with her chapped and withered hands.  Her hand hovered for a moment before settling on his lips, tracing them as she had the rest of his face, then lingering there.

            She opened her mouth, trying to force a sound out, something clicking in her mind.  Her damaged vocal cords made her voice alternate between its normal sound and a deeper, husky, wheezing one.  "I know you…"

            Tears welled in his amber eyes as he gently nodded, speaking quietly so as not to wake the sleeping Bobby and Logan.  "Yes, _meine__ liebe…you do…"_

             She stared at him.  "Who are you?"

            He thought his heart would break.  "Kurt…my name is Kurt.  Kurt Wagner.  And yours is Leslie Corring."

            Eyes wide, she shook her head as violently as she could.  "Nonononono!  I'm the Beast…I have no name…Master will name me when I'm pure…"

            Kurt gently cupped her face in his three-fingered hand.  "_Nein, liebchen_…you are no beast…you are just a human…if anything, you're an angel…"

            She stared at the blue man, confused.  She bore the markings…Master had told her…

            Then something, the last thing, fell into place, like the opening of a window…she was still the Beast in part of her mind…but she remembered being Leslie, now, too…and she remembered this lovely man, this demon saint, standing next to her, his breath warm on her face…and she remembered the longing she'd felt for him, how she'd wanted so badly to be in his arms just like she now was…

            But with all that came the pain, too…the pain of remembering the night she'd been raped, only 13…how she'd just gone down the street that night…the horror of the court and the trial, the joy in seeing him sentenced for life, the anguish of discovering she was pregnant…and the horrible, horrible guilt that came when she'd gone to the clinic and ended it…the guilt that even now, after four years and Confession, still didn't leave her…

            Tears, mirroring Kurt's own, dripped down her face, flowing along her scars.  "Oh, my God…" She whispered it over and over, clinging to Kurt as he rocked her like a baby, remembering how he had held Nathan Summers not so long ago, doing the same to him.

            She babbled, telling him everything, all the pain she'd kept inside for so long, all the fear of damnation, of isolation…before he had thought his heart would break…now he knew it had.

            "It's alright, _liebe_…it's alright…God has long forgiven you…_I_ forgive you, Leslie…" he answered her, helpless to do any more.  "He loves you…and so do I…" He was shocked when he realized he'd said the last part aloud, cursing himself for his foolishness.

            Her sobs slowed, quieted, as she realized what he'd said…she reached up again, as she had only moments ago, tracing his lips…but this time it had an entirely different meaning.

            Gently, fearing he would break her if he moved the wrong way, he bent his head slightly toward her bruised face.  Her hand drifted to his cheek, rubbing lightly against the grain of his fur.  

            She kissed him, softly, sweetly, not with a fiery passion, but with honest, simple love.  He hesitated before responding.

            It wasn't long, but they both felt as if they were in their own eternity.   Pulling away, Leslie tucked her head into his neck.  "I love you, too," she whispered.

            Kurt held her tightly as she drifted back to sleep.  And he couldn't help but wonder…would their first kiss also be their last?

            Shaking the thought away, he arranged the coat around Leslie before falling back to sleep.

            He sat, frowning as he watched the monitor, his councilors surrounding him.

            "The Beast has regained her memory, despite the spells.  Who knows how this was done?"

            No answer.

            Disgusted, he knocked the monitor over with his hand, watching it crash and its remnants spark.  

            "Prepare the chamber.  If she will not kill them…then she will join them." 


	29. This wasn’t a goddess, or a force This ...

A/N: This is for Darlin, who keeps reminding me that most of my chapters are so short, and it is in memory of Angelo Espinosa, AKA Skin, 1994 ~ 2003.  And another one bites the comic dust.

Disclaimer: 

You see what power is - holding someone else's fear in your hand and showing it to them!  
~Amy Tan

            Sleep, however, was fleeting for Kurt.  He was soon awoken by a hand roughly shaking his shoulder.  _Didn't I just do this?_  He blearily looked up to see Logan standing above him.

            "_Was…"_

            "Shh.  You'll wake the kid.  We need to talk."

            His mind still foggy, Kurt did his best to obey, blushing a bit when he saw that the coat had, once again, slipped off Leslie…though this time, entirely.  He quickly recovered her, grateful that Logan hadn't commented on it.

            "I thought you vere asleep."

            For the first time in his memory, Kurt saw what could—_could—be Logan blushing.  _

            "Yeah, well, I thought the two of ya needed some time alone."

            Kurt stared in wonderment.  _Who vould have thought Logan a romantic? "_Danke_."_

            Logan waved it away.  "Whatever, Kurt.  At least ya haven't been ordained yet, huh?"

            The blood rushed out of Kurt's face.  "Vhat do you mean?"

            Logan looked at him curiously.  "Just that it woulda been harder fer ya if ya'd been ordained already.  This way yer not a full priest…Kurt?"

            Nightcrawler gripped his friend's shoulders.  "_Mein freund…I __vas ordained…you vere there!"_

            "Elf…I ain't got a clue what yer talkin' about."

            Kurt's hands slipped to his side.  "Then…vhat have I been doing vhen I vent to preach Mass?" he asked, bewildered.

            "I bet these folk here have an idea," Wolverine growled, his knuckles flexing in a way that told Kurt he longed to release his claws.  "I hate magic."

            "_Ja_, me too."

            Silence reigned for a bit before Logan spoke again.

            "What I woke ya up fer is this:  I was listenin' at the door and heard some of 'em talkin' bout getting' us up and takin' us somewhere.  Don't know what fer, but it didn't sound good."

            Kurt rubbed the back of his neck.  "_Verdammt_!  For once can't it just be simple?!"

            "Ain't likely.  Not when yer goin' around with a target on you chest."

            He gave a hollow laugh.  "I suppose so."

            A groan was heard, and they whirled to see Bobby shakily rising.  "Tell me this is a bad dream."

            "'Fraid not."

            "Damn."

            Logan eyed him for a moment before continuing. "With Frost and 'em out and Leslie…the way she is, we haven't got a snowball's chance in hell."

            Bobby paled.  "Please, another metaphor around the Iceman?"

            Kurt had returned to Leslie and spoke quietly as he gathered her into his arms again.  "Ve vill do vhat ve must.  As always."

            The three of them looked at each other across the room as they waited together for the Pontiff to come.

            _I…was not I any more.  I was we.  We were Leslie, and we were Beast.  And both were real and true._

_            And Leslie and Beast were fading, too, at the same time, leaving, going toward and into and part of the Blackness that we loved and hated.  And I was something new.  We remembered clearly a verse we'd heard somewhere long ago:  Suffered a deep sea change…into something new and strange.  And it meant nothing and something to._

_            And Leslie, the part that was still here, still strong, Leslie took control, and I was her again, just her, and I saw Kurt, and I realized that my scars, my markings, they that covered my arms and back, were burning, and I hated then, and part of me wondered if I'd lied to him again, or if I'd changed part of him to say those words to me.  But even at that, Beast was here, and the Other._

_            And all three of us were with the Blackness._

The door banged open, jolting the three men from the slight stupor they'd fallen into.  Before Wolverine had a chance to growl, the room was filled with the priests.  Five hurried to restrain Logan, while another group moved towards Bobby.  Only one each came for the three unconscious X-Men.

            Kurt bared his teeth, shifting Leslie slightly so he had a better grip on her.  But all in vain, for he suddenly found himself unable to move.  A smirk on his face, one priest moved towards him, pulling the now awake Leslie from his arms.  To his astonishment she didn't make a sound, not even when they ripped the coat from her.

            "Fitting, for one such as you to care for the Beast," the same priest sneered.

            Kurt would have gladly have killed the man in front of him at the moment, had he a choice.  As it was, he merely followed.

            The Pontiff smiled at the captives as they were dragged in.  "So…once again the Unclean dare to enter my home.  This shall be the last time."

            Logan snarled, and Bobby, anger brewing, yelled any obscenity he could think of.  

            "Such language.  But not from you, my pet," he said to Leslie, seemingly finding nothing odd with her oozing wounds, naked body, nor the scars that decorated her.  

            _But then, vhy vould he?_ Kurt though angrily, _he vas the vone to have it done to her!_

            "You have not killed them, Beast.  Why?"

            Still she said nothing, staring at him blankly.

            "Perhaps it was only a lapse.  Now I give you a last chance.  Kill them."

            Leslie stood there for a moment, still, then slowly turned to face Kurt. She moved closer to him, until she was standing almost nose to nose.  

            Kurt forced his mouth to move, croaking.  "_Liebe_…"

            And she turned him inside out.

            _He was in the crowd again, the fires burning close, scorching his fur, and they were yelling at him, calling him demon, and all he'd wanted to do was help them…_

_            And he was in the middle of __New York__, and his image inducer failed, and a mother screamed, backing away, right into the path of a truck…_

_            And he was alone, holding Leslie's still body, too late to help her…_

_            And he was the demon he'd always feared becoming, away from his God, away from everything…_

_            And he was drowning._

Leslie felt him, felt him in her soul, if that was even what it was, in the bottom of her being, and she pulled away, quickly, knowing she wasn't too late, _knowing_, on the same level she knew she existed, that he would be fine.

            She whirled, angry, free for the moment, not the Beast, not even the Leslie who'd been, but someone new, still Leslie, but truer.  

            Later, Logan and Bobby would struggle to describe it.  The best Bobby ever came up with was this:

            "It wasn't like you, Jean, with the Phoenix.  There wasn't fire and beauty.  It wasn't like Ororo in a storm.  This wasn't a goddess, or a force.  This was just a human. You couldn't even really see it, but it sorta looked…It looked like the air over a black top in July.  You knew, how it wavers a little, and you can almost see the heat?  That was it.  All the hate in her…she made it physical, and threw it at the guys who were rushing towards her.  And when it touched them, it was like acid.  Their blood and bones and skin and all, it just _melted_ into this goo.  Like I said, it wasn't beautiful like you and 'Ro…wasn't even like Jubilee and her fireworks.

            "But it wasn't what she did that was impressive, Jean.  It wasn't any worse than a dozen other things I've seen.  It was her face when she did it…there wasn't any emotion on it at all, just blank…"

            Logan never spoke of it.

            Leslie stood, every scab on her ripped open, the blood mingling with what had once been her captures.  She faced the Pontiff, eyes cold.

            "Well, Beast.  It seems that purity is beyond you."

            She said nothing.

            "A loss.  But it matters little.  You're bound with those marks.  I'll find you again, I assure you."

            And he was gone.  Not with a light, nor a puff of smoke.  No smell of brimstone remained to let them know he had once been there.

            Kurt groggily rose, wondering what had happened.  At the same time Emma, Northstar, and Angel, no longer bound by the Pontiff, began to rise.

            Logan ignored them all, rushing towards Leslie and catching her as she fell.  She blinked at him once before passing out.

            "Kurt, get us the hell back to the Blackbird!"

            _I was the Blackness for a moment.  It burned in me, and I let it flow, staring as the men screamed, watching the puddles of blood and gore grow._

_            And then I watched him, the Pontiff, the bastard, my master, I watched him leave._

_            And I fell back into the waiting arms of the Blackness._

            Hank emerged from the surgery room, his fur matted with sweat.

            Kurt immediately stopped pacing, rushing past the other nervous mutants to him.  "How is she?"

            Hank removed his spectacles, polishing them as he answered.  "She's just woken from the anesthetic.  Annie's with her right now.  All I can say is, thank God and Lilandra for Shiar technology.  I repaired the damage to her vocal cords and muscles.  I also repaired some damage to her uterus that was cause by the abortion."

            The room started to buzz at the word "abortion," but Hank continued.

            "I was able to graft new skin onto most of her body, eliminating the scars…" He huffed a huge breath before going on.  "I was _not_, however, able to remove the ritualistic scars covering her back, neck, shoulders, and arms.  They reappeared on the new skin.  My only guess is that this is something other than science."

            The room was now loud with talk.  Kurt looked tensely at the other blue mutant.  "May I see her?"

            Hank nodded.  "You may, but she's still very much out of it.  I doubt she'll be able to converse."

            Kurt was already in the room.

            He sat next to Leslie, not even noticing as Annie left.  Thanks to the Shiar technology, one couldn't even tell that the skin she wore was not the one she'd been born with.  Unless, that was, they looked at the letters covering her arms.  Kurt gently traced them, not knowing he cause her pain by doing so.

            Greek, Hank had said.  Some of the letters were Greek…a few of the more familiar ones formed words in Latin.  He's also identified Egyptian, Mayan, and Chinese.  He pulled his hand away, anger rising like bile in his throat.

            He looked up at a slight noise, startled to see Leslie's black eyes open and staring at him.

            He gently took her hand.  "Hey, _liebe," he said gently._

            A slight smile came to her lips.  "Hey," she whispered back, then closed her eyes again.

            Kurt rose to go, thinking she wanted to be alone, but stopped when he suddenly felt the long-dead link click to life again.  It wasn't her feelings he felt…he suspected she was still blocking them…just her gentle presence, as much a part of his being as his breath.

            Smiling, he sat back down, holding her hand while he waited for her to awaken.


	30. Interlude 2: Fighter

A/N: Aren't I evil?  Another interlude!  But there's a reason…there's ALWAYS a reason for everything I write, even if it seems insignificant.  And this is a very important interlude.  Lyrics from Fighter by Christina Aguilera.

            ~Interlude Two~

            Leslie opened her eyes slowly, panic setting in before she remembered where she was.  She shakily sat up, eyes widening when she saw Kurt sleeping in a chair next to her bed.  _Oh, sweet Lord…did I tell him I loved him?_

            The Lord, being very busy with the infinite things He does, did not answer, at least not in a way she recognized.  Not that Leslie really _expected_ Him to, but considering the way her life had been going lately, she was a little annoyed that he didn't.

            _Oh, yeah, I'm **definitely on pain killers.**_

            She rose on weak legs, silently and slowly moving toward the attached bathroom.  She sat on the toilet seat the moment she entered, exhausted from the short walk.  Reaching over, she grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it and doing her best to clean her broken body.

            _No, she reminded herself, running the cloth over her neck and chest.  __Not broken anymore.  Hank fixed that._

            But her heart told her otherwise as she removed the hospital gown to get to her tattooed back.  _You'll never be whole again.  The Pontiff made sure of that…_

**_            Well I thought I knew you  
            Thinking that you were true  
            Guess I, I couldn't trust  
            Called your bluff  
            time is up  
            cause I've had enough_**  
  
            She'd trusted him.  That was the thing that got her.  The whole time…she'd thought he was helping her, trying to cure her.  He'd made her believe she didn't even deserve clothes, then made her love him.

****

**_            You were there by my side  
            always down for the ride  
            but your joyride  
            just came down in flames  
            cause your deeds  
            sold me out in shame_**  
  


            She'd been worse than a slave.  Slaves had minds of their own, parts of themselves that were there's alone.  She hadn't.  He may not have been able to read her thoughts, but he'd hand selected them.  She'd been a Beast.  He'd made her one.

  
            **_After all of the stealing, your cheating  
            you probably think  
            that I hold resentment for you  
            but...you're wrong  
  
_**

**_            Cause if it wasn't for all that  
            you tried to do  
            I wouldn't know  
            just how capable  
            I am to pull through  _**

**_  
            so I wanna say thank you_**

            But she felt…strong.  Good.  Since entering this world, she'd been scared and alone, dependent on others to protect her.  Not there.  There, _she'd been the one to save everyone.  The Pontiff had made her strong._

            She didn't dwell on the thought.

  
            **_Cause it makes me that much stronger  
            Makes me work a little bit harder  
            It makes me that much wiser  
            So thanks for making me a fighter  
            Made me learn a little bit faster  
            Made my skin a little bit thicker  
            It makes me that much smarter  
            So thanks for making me a fighter  
  
_**

            She stared at her naked back in the mirror, craning her neck to see the entire design.  She hated it…but she loved it, too, sadistic as it sounded.  She'd had words carved into her flesh with hot knives, a burning solution poured over them to make them dark…and she was still here.  Alive. 

  
            **_Never saw it coming  
            all of your backstabbing  
            just so you could  
            cash in on my good thing  
            before I realized your game  
  
            I heard your going round  
            playing the victim now  
            but don't even begin  
            feeling I'm the one to blame  
            cause you dug your own grave  
  
_**

            She'd killed them.  At least ten she could remember, their faces burned as deeply in her memory as the symbols on her arms.  She'd _felt them die, the bright light that was Life going out in each of them.  The last thing they experienced was pain.  Horrible pain, and the shock of watching their bodies decay before their eyes._

            She felt no pity for them.  She wondered if she'd ever feel it again.

  
            **_After all of the fights and the lies  
            guess you wanted to harm me  
            but that won't work any more  
            no more...it's over  
            _  
            ****_Cause if it wasn't for  
            all of your torture  
            I wouldn't know how  
            to be this way now and  
            never back down  
  
            so I wanna say thank you_  
  
**

            She'd go through it again, if she had to.  Because the Leslie who'd been was gone, hidden in the back of her mind now.  She was new, fresh.  A baptism of blood and pain it was.  

**_            Cause it makes me that much stronger  
            Makes me work a little bit harder  
            It makes me that much wiser  
            So thanks for making me a fighter  
            Made me learn a little bit faster  
            Made my skin a little bit thicker  
            It makes me that much smarter  
            So thanks for making me a fighter  
  
_**

            She stared at her reflection, forcing herself to stand in front of the mirror.  Her eyes…before they'd been like shadows.  Now they were flint.  Her hair, ragged and burnt…she grabbed a pair of scissors, evening it out.  It was still long, past her shoulder blades…but it too was different now.

            She made her way back to the bed, noticing with some amusement that Kurt hadn't moved.  Kurt…did she love him?  Did he really love her, or had she made him think so…And did she love him, or was it just her power picking up on his feelings.  More things to deal with.

            She came to a decision, then, though she wouldn't consciously recognize it until later.  She needed to be on her own…she needed to get away.  To think…to pray…and to plan a way to kill the Pontiff.  And if she needed the Darkness to do it…so what?


	31. Flown the Coop

A/N: Ugh, horrible time with this chapter.  It was a lot longer, but I didn't like the way it was working so I'm rewriting that part.  Just a few chapters more, then the sequel.  Enjoy.

Disclaimer:

Wolverine: Nice save Rogue. But it shouldn't have been 

necessary.

Rogue: You'd rather ah let her die, Wolverine?

Wolverine: Would'a taught the girl a lesson.

Rogue: Cute, boss

            Leslie bit her lip as she shifted into a sitting position in her hospital bed.  This was it.  She took a deep breath, concentrating, then began.

            "Hank?" she asked, willing him to want to do anything she said.  "I was wondering if you could do me a few favors…"

            Stacy smiled as she stepped out of Warren's room.  That was the last thing she'd needed to do, and she was _outta there!  Finally, she could get back to work…_

            "Going somewhere?"

            She spun, her bag swinging, then relaxed when she saw the girl, Leslie she thought her name was, standing there…with two bags of her own?  "I could ask you the same thing," she replied, smirking.

            "You could.  As for me, I'm going with you," Leslie answered, adjusting her sunglasses.

            Stacy stared.  "You're joking."

            "Nope," she replied.  "I gotta get out of here.  Away from this.  I need to think about…stuff."

            Stacy began walking down the hall.  "First of all, you're not coming.  Second, how'd you know I was leaving?"

            "Felt you when Paige was with Warren in the infirmary.  Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out, and the timing's too good for me to pass up."

            She shook her head, trying to hide her hurt at Warren's name.  "They'll just find ya and bring ya back."

            "Nope," Leslie said, grinning.  "They'll be looking for Leslie Corring, not Anna Jacobs.  Did you know the computers in there make great fake I.D.s?"

            Stacy searched for a reason to say no.  "How're ya goin to survive?  Ya need money, kid." A grin crossed her face.  "I _could_ train ya…"

            "No," Leslie cut in firmly, "thank you.  I'll get a job waiting tables or something.  For now, I'm set.  Prof's got a bank account for each of us students.  I got someone to help me empty mine."

            Stacy looked at her.  "You're serious, ain'tcha?"

            "Yes."

            Leslie followed her out the door and into the night.  "So?"

            Stacy shrugged.  "Yeah, why not?  But I ain't got a particular place in mind, you know," she warned.  "Could be a long way."

            Leslie smiled bitterly.  "The longer the better.  So where to first?"

            The two began walking towards Salem Center and the bus station.

  
            Hank awoke the next morning with a migraine from hell and no memory of the previous night.  "Oh, my stars and garters," he groaned as he made his way to the staff kitchen for coffee.

            He was greeted by an irate Kurt Wagner.  "Vhere is she?!"

            Hank replied with a very eloquent, "Huh?"

            "Leslie!  She's gone, and Stacy vith her!"  A piece of paper was shoved into his face, and Hank tried to focus his eyes enough to read it.

            _Kurt-_

_            I've gotta get away from here.  I told you I loved you…and I don't know if I do.  I don't know which feelings are mine and which are yours.  I just need some space._

_            Don't give my room away.  I'll be back._

_            ~Leslie_

            Hank blinked.  "Oh dear.  It would seem the avian life form has flown the proverbial coop."

            Kurt punched him and bamfed away.

            Hank groaned again, resting his aching head against the refrigerator.  It was going to be a long day/


	32. Where are we going?

            Leslie stared at herself in the mirror, running her hand again through her short locks.  Two days.  Two days since they'd left the mansion, and already she looked different.

            It had been Stacy's idea, and, Leslie had to admit, a damn good one.  They'd arrived in New York by bus, Stacy leading her through the seedier sides of the city (and there were a lot of them) to an apartment she claimed belonged to a friend.  Leslie hadn't questioned her.  

            Immediately Stacy had demanded her I.D., then left with it, returning later with tanner, hair dye, and scissors.  

            "Oh, no.  No way.  Not the hair."

            "Les, if you don't want them to find you, you're going to have to do better than that."

            Sighing, she'd acquiesced, wincing as she saw the hair fall.  Stacy had snapped a photo, leaving again.  This time she returned with a new ID.  Still Anna Jacobs, but with a new photo to match her new look.  Leslie really didn't want to know how she'd managed that.

            She wrenched her gaze from the mirror…only to have it fall on the phone.  Dammit.  The other thing she wanted to avoid…One call.  What harm could one call do, to let them know she was alright?

            _Stop it.  Now.  You will not do this to yourself.  This is the right thing to do now.  Later.  You can call him—them—later._

            She groaned.  "Can't even lie to yourself, can ya?"  Sighing, she through herself on her bed in the room they shared.  Stacy was out, erm, "working," so she could get some sleep until she returned.  Rule number one: none of Stacy's "business meetings" took place in the apartment.

            Closing her eyes, Leslie slipped off to sleep, hoping tonight no to be plagued by dreams…

            Bobby was being fed grapes by Emma Frost.  Who was in full Hellfire attire.  Just when he thought life couldn't get any better, Emma morphed into Moira McTaggert, who began chasing him with giant needles for drinking the last of her coffee.

            "Man, you need therapy.  I mean it."

            Bobby blinked as Moira disappeared, then turned to see Leslie smirking as she leaned against a tree.

            "Leslie!  You're back!  What the hell were you thinking, Kurt's gone nuts, and I think he's considering calling up Mystique to get help finding yo—"

            Leslie cut him off.  "Bobby.  Reality check: has Frost ever offered to feed you ANYTHING besides your own brain?"

            He thought about it.  "Erm…no?"

            "And is Moira even alive?"

            "At the moment, I don't think so, but with this group you can never tell."

            "True," Leslie conceded, "but the point is: you're dreaming.  I'm not back at the mansion."

            "Oh."  Damn.  He knew when Remy and Logan had waltzed through—and he did mean WALTZED—that something was wrong… "Why'd ya leave?"

            Leslie sat down on the grass, plucking idly at it.  "Lots of reasons.  Had to get away from it all.  Going to kill the Pontiff.  That sort of thing."

            "Oh."  He sat down next to her.  "You're gonna kill him?"

            "Yup."

            "Hit him once for me?"

            She grinned, leaning against him.  "Sure."

            "Good."  They sat there for a bit before Leslie spoke again.

            "So he's not taking it well?"

            Bobby rolled his eyes.  "That's an understatement.  He hit Hank—did you have to drug him, by the way?—then teleported into the woods, where he hid for half the day before Logan found him."

            "Hank'll be fine.  At least according to the papers in the med lab he will be…Is he really going to call Mystique?"

            He shrugged.  "Who knows?  Maybe it would give them something to bond over."

            "I suppose…wasn't she dead?"

            "She got better."

            "Oh."

            They sat there for a minute before Leslie seemed to waver before stabilizing again.

            "What's wrong?"

            Leslie sighed.  "You're waking up.  Time for me to go, I guess…"

            "Hey, let me know how you're doing from time to time?"

            She smiled.  "Course.  Don't tell anyone about this?"

            "Course."

            "Good…" and then, just before she faded completely, she added, "and let me know how Logan takes the soda in the beer cans…"

            He stared in horror as reality dripped away.  "Shit!  I'm gonna get blamed for that, aren't I?"

            And he thought he heard her laugh.

            Bobby awoke to a face that would give the U.S. Marines nightmares.  A face that, had Dante seen it, would have made the Divine Comedy four books long, with one whole book devoted to the terrors it instilled alone.  A face that not even a drugged-up blind mother could love.

            He awoke to see a drunk Kurt.

            Not that Kurt was ugly, mind you.  In fact, despite his physical oddities, his features were quite handsome.  But a DRUNK Kurt got a manic look in his eye that was said to have made Logan go out and buy a teddy bear.  When asked, Logan would plead the fifth Amendment, despite not being American.

            Not to mention the fact that Kurt had an extremely high tolerance for alcohol, and therefore had to drink unseemly quantities to get even a bit tipsy.

            Bobby swallowed hard.  "Um…hi?"

            Kurt wrapped a hand around his neck.  "Vhat did she say?!"

            "Can't…breathe…"

            He loosened his grip.  "Vhat did Leslie say?"

            _Play dumb, Bobby decided.  _It's always worked before._  "I don't know what you're talking about."_

            Kurt sent him a withering glance.  "Leslie.  I know she vas in your mind.  Vhat did she vant?  Vhere is she?"

            _Damn!  Didn't see that one, didja, Les?  "Kurt, she just said hi.  Really.  And gave me a heads up on a Logan prank so I have time to move to Canada and become a lumber jack.  (A/N:  Shameless plug for Panther's Series of Unfortunate Saturdays, in the Evo section.)_

            Kurt released him suddenly, causing Bobby to flop back onto the mattress.  Groaning, he placed his head in his hands.  "_Mein Gott...did she say vhen she'd be back?"_

            "No," Bobby said cautiously, sitting up.  "Kurt, man, it'll be okay…God, you were never this upset when Amanda left…"

            "_Nein," Kurt answered dully.  "But…Leslie is locking off the link.  And I vas used to it…and now it feels like a part of me is just gone…"_

            Bobby awkwardly patted his friend's shoulder.  _Leslie, you better kill that guy soon…_

            Leslie awoke when Stacy banged the door open, whistling off tune.  "Good night?" she asked dryly.

            "The best kind, sweets," Stacy replied, stripping as she made her way to the bathroom.  It had shocked Leslie when she'd done it the night before, but she expected it now.  

            "Glad to hear it."

            Stacy reemerged a few minutes later, short hair still damp from her quick shower.  "Unfortunately, we gotta leave the city tomorrow."

            "_Why?!_"

            She shrugged.  "Cop caught me, and I didn't have a chance to touch him.  So we're leaving before he changes his mind about arresting me."

            Leslie groaned into her pillow.  She asked, though in a rather muffled way, "Where are we going?"

            "Damned if I know.  Chicago?"

            "Why not.  I'll pack."

            Doing so, Leslie couldn't help but wonder what was ahead of them.  Jail?  Running forever?  Revenge?

            She had _no idea…_

            The End

            A/N: That's it.  Really.  There isn't anymore.  I'm done.   The story is ended…oh, alright, I'll write a sequel.  Title?  Jeez, you're demanding!  Fine:  

            Life Isn't Fair, But It Beats the Alternative.  Wordy, eh?


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